


Circumvention

by bzarcher



Series: The Wizard Triumphant [5]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: A little bit of a mystery, Canon-Typical Violence, F/F, Major deaths in flashback, Mentions of brainwashing, Mentions of other characters - Freeform, Odile!AU, Other, Reprogrammed!Widowmaker, Talon!Tracer, Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-03
Updated: 2018-01-16
Packaged: 2019-01-08 16:27:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 26,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12257982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bzarcher/pseuds/bzarcher
Summary: After Talon broke Tracer and the former Widowmaker, Odette, to create "Slipstream" and "Odile", Sombra made the decision to go dark and disappear. She had planned to stay under cover, take care of her business, and stay alive.But things are never so simple. Especially when Slipstream needs a favor from a "friend."





	1. Shadow Beneath The Sun

The little farm had been artfully concealed.

It was near Parritas, if it could be said to be “near” anything, and if you were looking for it from the air or space, it appeared to be just another chunk of the desert in Chihuahua. Arid, empty land in a part of Mexico that had been almost entirely reclaimed by the harsh wilderness in the years since the Crisis.

Someone who tried to look for the farm from the road would see much the same, but if for some strange reason you approached on _foot_ …

Well, unless you knew that something might be there, you _wouldn’t_ , that was the entire point, but someone who _did_ might spot the slight discolorations where rain catchments had been disguised among the rocky terrain.

If you approached closer, you might notice how platforms of solar tiles and carefully designed camouflage mesh had been strung to disguise a large swath of land, and if you could find the tiny footpath that lead down below them, you’d discover a small but hardy farm, with rows of carefully maintained crops, a large chicken run, and a little farmhouse with a small arrangement of satellite uplink dishes and low profile antennas jutting up from the back.

Slipstream took a swig from the canteen she’d been carrying on a sling around her neck, and gave a low whistle as she took in the setup.

“Have to admit it’s impressive.”

She checked her phone, and chuckled at the indicators showing there was no signal. She had a feeling nothing got in or out of this valley that the farmer didn’t allow.

She’d left her accelerator back in the jeep she’d rented to drive out here, along with most of her combat gear. A white jacket helped with some of the desert heat, with a long sleeved cotton shirt beneath and a wet bandanna knotted around her neck. Khaki cargo pants were tucked into her combat boots, and her red combat goggles worked just fine to protect her vision from the pounding sun.

Movement caught her attention, and she saw a tanned woman with long hair and a broad hat leave the chicken run to go check on the collection barrels that fed the farm’s irrigation system.

She watched the farmer check the water level in the barrels before she dragged a cart of tools and soil over to one of the rows of crops. The woman knelt down to tend the plants, and once she was certain the farmer’s attention was entirely on her work, Slipstream capped her canteen and began to walk down the path into the little artificial valley.

When she knew she’d be in earshot, Slipstream cleared her throat with just a touch of exaggeration to suit her sense of theatre. “Would have never expected to find you here, luv. Digging around in the dirt...isn’t it all a bit _analog_ for you?”

The woman stiffened at the sound of her voice, dropping the trowel she’d been holding. “I’m not going to work for Talon again,” the farmer answered, “so if you’re going to kill me, just get it over with.”

Slipstream tutted softly. “Is that any way to say hello?” She smirked at the opportunity to twist the farmer’s tail. “Anyway, _relájate, chica_. I didn’t come here to kill you.”

The farmer slowly shuffled around on her knees so she could look up at her, squinting just a bit under the brim of her hat. Slipstream could see the faint traces of blue and purple metal beneath her thick dark hair, the dark lines of deactivated cybernetic interfaces running along her hands.

“Somehow that doesn’t reassure me very much,” the woman who had been Sombra said. “If you’re not here to kill me, she asked skeptically, “then why _are_ you here?”

“Oh, that’s easy!” Slipstream beamed at her with a bright smile. “Came to talk to you about a job. Maybe even make a _friend._ ”

“I already told you I won’t work for Talon. Not any more. Not after…” Sombra trailed off, but Slipstream could fill in the blank. _Not after what they did to Odette. Not after what they did to you._ There was pity in Sombra’s eyes, and it made a burning coal of anger form in her chest.

“Never said you would,” Slipstream explained with false cheer as she leaned in just a little. She didn’t get to be the tall one very often, and she was enjoying it. “Not surprised you haven’t heard, but me and my Swan decided to be our own bosses a while back. Worse pay, better hours.” She winked. “Actually, that first part’s a lie - the pay’s grand. Which is why you’d be working for _us._ ”

Sombra made a show of considering that. “Doing _what_ exactly?” She shifted a bit as if she was trying to get comfortable, and that it was just a coincidence that her hand came to rest next to the buttstock of the machine pistol that sat in the bottom of her cart.

Slipstream’s eyes narrowed, and in a heartbeat her hand was filled with a pistol, the barrel inches from Sombra’s eyes. “I wouldn’t,” she advised. “I said I _didn’t_ come here to kill you...but that’s not the same as _won’t._ ”

Sombra’s hand slowly retracted back to her side. “...OK. Fine. So, I’ll ask you again - what’s the job?”

Slipstream smirked as she made the pistol disappear again. “Oh, you’ll love it. Got some people we want you to find.”

Sombra stood slowly, brushing the dirt and dust off of her hands. “I wouldn’t think you two would have a shortage of targets.”

“Oh,” Slipstream laughed softly, “not _targets_. Not in that sense, at least.” She smiled. “We’re looking for them so we could have what you’d call a _conversation._ ”

Sombra considered that. “And what do _I_ get out of this?”

Slipstream’s smile faded as she crossed her arms across her chest, feeling the edge of her anchor pressing through the fabric of her shirt. “There’s a name on the top of our list. Been there for a while. You do this job? It goes away, and it won’t be put back.”

Sombra had a fantastic poker face, but Slipstream was looking for the way her nostrils flared and her breathing caught. Sombra would never have done a job like this for _money_. Not with the two of them involved. It had to be something much more valuable.

That didn’t mean Slipstream had to _like_ it, but she knew it would work.

Sombra tilted her head towards the farmhouse. “Come inside. I need to wash my hands before I get to work.”

* * *

Slipstream wasn’t surprised that, just like the farm outside, the farmhouse was very different on the inside.

The thick adobe walls were real, but what appeared to be terracotta tiles were more solar panels - and Slipstream didn’t miss the armoring in the door and window frames.

Sombra pointed to her kitchen table. “You might as well sit down.” Slipstream did as she was asked, watching Sombra run water in the sink to clean the dirt from her hands out of the corner of her eye as she looked around.

She could see server racks in one corner of the living room, and down a short hallway she could see a messy looking bedroom. “So...the whole ‘off the grid’ thing. You actually like living like this?”

Sombra shrugged as she shut off the water and reached for a towel. “It works. I learned a few new tricks, found another way to disappear. It was keeping me off Talon’s radar...until now.” She shot Slipstream a dirty look.

Slipstream returned the glare with a bland smile. “Told you before - we’re _ours_ , not Talon’s. They still don’t know this place exists, and if you help me out, there’s no reason they need to know.”

Sombra grunted before she opened her refrigerator, pulling out a pair of water bottles and putting one in front of Slipstream before she sat down. “If you walked here - and I know you did - you need to rehydrate.”

Slipstream didn’t bother arguing, just twisted off the bottle cap and raised it in a cheeky salute. “Cheers, luv.”

Sombra’s eyes took on a nasty edge. “Isn’t that a little too close to your _old_ catchphrase?”

Slipstream could feel her eye twitch, but she did her best to keep her temper. “Don’t push it, _Olivia._ ”

“You remember me well enough to know that pushing things is what I do,” Sombra fenced back. She took a pull off her water, then set the bottle down and made a little “bring it” gesture with her fingers. “So - you want me to find some people? Let’s have it.”

Slipstream reached into her jacket, and handed over a folded sheet of paper. “There you are, then.”

Sombra’s eyebrows rose, and when she reached the last name on the list she stared in disbelief. “You’re kidding, right? This last one…”

Slipstream smirked. “Are you saying you’re not up for the challenge? I thought _everyone_ could be hacked.”

Sombra’s nostrils flared. “Oh, I can _find_ her, but do you really think she’ll give you the time of day?”

Slipstream shrugged. “That’s for me to deal with. Besides, I can be _awfully_ persuasive.”

“Uh-huh.” Sombra rolled her eyes, but looked thoughtfully back at the list. “So what is this _about_ , anyway? Why them? Why _now?”_ Her eyes narrowed in thought as she considered who she was dealing with. “And why are you by yourself? Where’s your partner?”

“Well.” Slipstream drained the rest of the bottle. “That’s my whole problem, isn’t it?”


	2. Restitution

Sanjay stared at the woman sitting across from him. She had to be kidding, didn't she? “You want _what?”_

Slipstream took a sip from the mug of coffee in front of her, then raised a finger. “No, not what. _Who_. That's the whole point.”

Sanjay could feel sweat beading on his forehead, and looked around the cafe for a moment before he leaned in. “Even if I _were_ inclined to give you what you are asking - and Vishkar is _not_ \- why on earth would I give you _her?”_ He sat back, his mouth twisting in a frown. “You were involved in _retrieving_ that asset.”

Slipstream nodded affably. “Yes, we were. But you lot wouldn't give her the 'treatment’, would you? Couldn't dare risk that talent, eh? Might just lose something important.” Her smile turned into something angry and cruel. “I'm going to bet your usual ‘re-education’ didn't get far either.”

Sanjay’s silence was its own answer.

“So. Not getting any use out of her, can't ‘fix’ her. Seems a dreadful waste if you ask me.” Slipstream picked her coffee back up. “You lot don't like to be inefficient, do you? Certainly not a _good company man_ like you, eh?”

Sanjay could feel the sides of his head pounding with a massive headache, and he touched a finger lightly to his temple, trying to ease it. “What possible use could she be to you?”

“Not your problem, or your concern.” Slipstream leveled a gaze at him that wouldn't have been out of place behind the sights of her pistols. “Vishkar owes us payment and I've come to collect." Her voice lowered into a dangerous whisper. "And since we both know your _other_ business,  _Mister Korpal_ , you know exactly what I could do if you decide to keep me from what I want.”

That was true, Sanjay had to admit. He'd seen the results of Slipstream and Odile’s work several times as part of Talon’s ruling council, and the video of their escape, including Slipstream’s execution of the former head of the _Iatrodectus_ project, had been...memorable.

“I can’t simply _sell_ \- or even _give -_ you an Architect. Even _that_ one.”

“Who said anything about selling?” Slipstream chuckled softly. “Just give me your access codes. I don’t mean to brag, but I _am_ a notorious assassin. Used to be a top Overwatch agent. I’m sure breaking and entering is well within my capabilities...and if I happen to have acquired the some Vishkar credentials, it might just prevent me from, oh...I don’t know...killing every bloody person I come across?” Her lips were turned up in a little smile, but there was no amusement at all in her eyes.

Sanjay didn’t consider himself a particularly squeamish man, but it was hard not to find Slipstream’s threats rather unsettling. He found himself unable to look into her eyes, trying to look at the cafe wall over her shoulder instead. “That seems entirely possible. You _are_ rather notorious.”

“So.” Slipstream picked up a biscuit and dunked it into the mug. “We have a deal?”

“I would appreciate it if you...claimed your payment after close of business tonight, but yes.” Sanjay tried not to grimace too much. “We have a deal.”   
  
With luck he could deflect scrutiny away from him afterwards, but Sanjay was painfully reminded that no man could serve two masters forever...and his associations with Talon had cost him dearly once again.

* * *

Slipstream laughed softly to herself as she left the cafe a few minutes after Korpal had fucked off with his tail between his legs. Sombra had already passed along his credentials, but this way the whole thing would be somewhat covered from within...and putting the screws to him had been rather fun.

She walked a few streets over, then stepped into an alley before she reached into her jacket and grabbed her phone, thumbing it open and tapping her speed dial.

Slipstream listened as the line connected, then waited for the beep of a voicemail box. “Hey,” she breathed into the phone. “It’s me. Wanted to let you know I’ve been making progress and I should be able to get back soon. I miss you. God, I miss you so fucking much. It’s important and I’m doing my best without you, but…” Slipstream sighed, the pain and exhaustion she'd been hiding behind her smile bleeding into her voice. “Still miss you. Love you madly.” She closed the phone, then flipped to the messaging app before selecting the sugar skull contact that Sombra had added to the device.

_Korpal’s on the hook. Asked that we wait until after COB to pick up the package._

Gotta protect the stock price, I guess.

Shame.

_Time enough for that later - job first._

That’s funny coming from you, really.

But ~fine~, I’ll behave myself for now.

* * *

Satya had to admit her cell could have been much worse.

The walls were smooth constructs of hard light, seamless and slick. Comforting, in their own way. Lights set into the ceiling made it bright enough during “daylight” hours that it had been almost painful, at first, but she’d slowly become accustomed to it, and the lack of noise outside of a slight humming was regular enough that it didn’t keep Satya from being able to concentrate or sleep.

Vishkar, in their own way, were quite considerate and humane jailers.

Visitors were rare, and visitors she actually _wished_ to see were even fewer. She’d been provided books, and could request new volumes periodically. They’d even given her a selection of pencils and paper so she could write or draw, though it had taken some time for Satya to get used to working with only one hand.

Meals had been equally frustrating, but since they were delivered through a slot that opened in the wall, no one had to watch her struggle until she had finally mastered the necessary techniques.

She had no method to determine the passage of time outside of her cell other than the arrival of meals and the dimming of the lights to facilitate sleep, but Satya thought it was early evening when she heard the sound of a scuffle outside.

There was a dull thump, then another, and finally a heavy thud that reverberated through the wall before things went silent once again.

Satya thought that perhaps five seconds had passed before a doorframe appeared in a section of the wall facing her bed, and the newly created door shimmered for a moment before dissolving as the hard light surface was removed.

To her shock, the person who stepped into the cell was not Sanjay or another Vishkar employee, but it _was_ a woman she knew.

Well. Properly, a woman she _had known_ , once, when she had been Lena Oxton, or Tracer. Satya could say she was _familiar_ with Slipstream, but she couldn’t truly say she knew her.

After all, they had not spoken since the day Slipstream and Odile had captured her.

“Hullo, Satya.” Slipstream’s mouth was turned up in a crooked grin, her eyes dancing beneath her tactical goggles. “Nice little flat you have here.”

Satya drew herself up with as much dignity as she could manage while wearing a prisoner’s jumpsuit. “Slipstream. If you are here to kill me, please spare me the pleasantries.”

Slipstream blinked, then laughed. “Kill you?! Oh, no, no! Sorry, you’ve got the wrong idea entirely.” She stepped to the side and made a sweeping gesture towards the door. “As it happens, this is more by way of a rescue.”

Satya frowned in confusion. “ _Rescue?!_ You were responsible for capturing me in the first place, and for Talon returning me to Vishkar.”

Slipstream coughed. “Well. Yeaaaah. But you might say I’ve had a change of priorities - and Talon’s not giving the marching orders these days. Right now, those priorities include getting you out of here.”

Satya stood hesitantly. “To go _where?_ ” She did notice that Slipstream no longer had any Talon insignia on her weapons or clothing, but she still had very little reason to trust her.

Slipstream looked a bit uncertain for a moment. “Well. Step one is a safehouse. Step two...depends on a few things. But we’ll get it sorted once we have you safely out of here.”

Satya frowned. “That is not reassuring.”  
  
“I suppose not,” Slipstream admitted, “but do you _really_ want to rot for the rest of your life in here?”

Satya had to concede that was an excellent point.

* * *

“Hey, it's about time!” Sombra grinned, waving as Slipstream opened the door of the safe house they'd set up on the outskirts of Utopaea. “How'd it go?”

Slipstream gave a tired little smile as she pulled off her goggles and slipped them into a pocket on her jacket. “Ask her yourself.”

As Slipstream stepped aside, starting to unbuckle the fittings and straps of her accelerator, Sombra stood and watched carefully as Satya Vaswani stepped into the safe house, her body language wary and her expression faintly overwhelmed. “Hey, girl. You look like shit.”

Satya gave her a faintly acerb look. “I have been a prisoner for roughly thirty months.”

“Thirty one,” Sombra corrected, then stopped herself with a wince. “Sorry. Fair point.” She gestured towards the kitchen. “Got some food on, and I have a few things for you in the living room.”

Satya considered that, obviously trying to figure out if Sombra could be trusted. They'd never been _friends_ , precisely, but Satya had worked with her a few times on freelance jobs, before she'd defected to join Overwatch, and Sombra had watched her back enough to establish some trust, even when they'd been on opposite sides. "Show me, please."

Sombra smiled and lead her into the living room, where she'd set up a couple of computer terminals and a set of heavy black Anvil cases. Snapping open the catches on them, she stepped back with a little flourish. “Hope these make up for missing your last couple of birthday parties.”

Satya gave a roll of her eyes as she walked to the first case. “I hardly had anything to celebrate…” She pushed the lid open, and her eyes went wide as she saw what rested within, nestled carefully between pieces of protective foam.

“Surprise!” Sombra grinned as she stepped around her and carefully lifted out the prosthetic arm, the armored cowling changed from gleaming white to a lustrous black. “Hope you don’t mind the color. I thought it might be good for you to have a fresh start, so to speak.”

Satya carefully ran her hand over the surface of the arm. “The internal components all match the proper specifications?”

“Checked and double checked,” Sombra promised. “I get it, believe me. If someone messed with my implants and hacking interfaces I’d be furious. It’s not quite the same, but…”

Satya considered that, then nodded. “Then I am sure it will be acceptable.” She reached up to carefully unzip the top of her jumpsuit. “Would you please help me install it?”

“I mean, yeah, of course!” Sombra reached out for the top of her jumpsuit, then stopped. “Is it OK if I help you out with your clothes?”

Satya gave her a very dry look. “I did ask you to help...and given your reputation, I am quite sure that you have seen a woman in her underwear before.”

Sombra seemed to recover her aplomb as she slipped the empty sleeve and side of the jumpsuit down to expose the cybernetic interface socket on her remnant shoulder, careful not to touch the plain white sports bra Vishkar had given Satya along with the rest of her prison garb. “I am a _perfect_ gentlewoman, Miss Vaswani.”

Satya snorted softly. “I’m sure.” Then, as Sombra slipped the connectors for her arm into place and settled it over her shoulder blade, she gasped with the sudden return of sensation as the limb came back online, the hard light emitters and photonic energy banks glowing with soft blue light.

Sombra made sure the artificial limb was seated properly, then stepped back while making a point of keeping eye contact with her guest. “Better?”

Satya closed her eyes and ran a diagnostic, then carefully rotated and flexed her arm through several poses before she energized the emitters and crafted a small wireframe pyramid of hard light, bending it into several other polygonal shapes before dismissing it into the aether. “I feel...complete again.”

Sombra gave her a little smile and pointed to the other case. “You can probably guess what’s in there, but still.”

Satya considered that as she pulled her jumpsuit back on, using her prosthetic hand to close the zipper as one more test of sensation and dexterity, then snapped open the case. As Sombra had implied, her interface visor, a photon projector, and a set of hearing protection sat waiting for her, and Satya felt a distinct relief as she slipped the earpieces and visor on, making the lighting a bit less harsh and the sounds of the room around her a little softer.

“Thank you,” Satya offered quietly.

Sombra looked oddly pained by receiving her thanks. “Least I could do. C’mon, let’s go eat.”


	3. Observation Points

Hana Song hadn’t really been happy in several years. Not since, at least in her mind, she’d stopped really being D.Va and had to just be Hana, acting as the chief strategist for the underground remnants of Overwatch while trying to keep them one step ahead of Talon, Null Sector, Vishkar, the UN, and...whatever their former friends had become.

Today, though, she was just confused.

Hana was sitting in the basement of an internet cafe in Numbani, reading over the reports that had been delivered anonymously, and finally packaged everything up and forwarded it to an electronic drop with a frown, waiting for the transfer to complete before she opened a video chat window, bouncing it through several routes as the ‘connecting’ graphic began to rotate on the screen.

When it resolved, Winston was sitting on a massive truck tire, his eyes sparkling with curiosity from behind his glasses. “Good afternoon, Hana. This is a bit of a surprise.”

“Hey,” Hana sketched a wave before sitting up in her chair. “I want your opinion on the intel reports I just forwarded to you.”

Winston frowned thoughtfully. “I was just starting to read through them. Give me a moment?”

Hana nodded and sat back, grabbing a bottle of water and sipping at it while the gorilla hummed thoughtfully as he scrolled through the documents, a hand coming up to scratch thoughtfully at the grey streaked fur at the side of his neck.

“This is...rather unusual, to say the least.” Winston turned back to fully face the camera and give Hana his full attention. “We’ve seen them perform some smash and grab operations even before they left Talon, but this is...almost like an entirely different set of tactics. Low bodycount, practically no collateral damage, apparently _rescuing_ a prisoner rather than simply killing a target or stealing an object?”

Hana leaned forward. “And the biggest thing - Slipstream seemingly acted _alone_.”

Winston grunted. “Though I will say the entire point of a sniper - generally - is that they _aren’t_ seen, Odile’s somewhat unusual tendency to get in close aside.”

“Even so,” Hana conceded. “When was the last time we spotted one without the other? She’s... _they’re_ ...a package deal. Talon _made_ them dependent on each other.”

Winston grunted. “The incident with the crossrip aside, I’d have to agree, especially with the data Sombra provided us back when they first surfaced after being reprogrammed.” He drummed his toes against the surface of the tire. “Which...how _exactly_ did you get these reports, Hana?”

Hana grimaced. “Old dead drop. One I hadn’t used in more than two years.”

“One that Sombra knew about?”

Hana sighed. “Yeah.”

“It’s very strange to see _her_ apparently surface after being out of contact for so long, and in the middle of all this.”

Hana raised an eyebrow. “Do you think she got flipped? That this is all some kind of a ploy or a way for them to draw us out? Freeing Satya from Vishkar is kind of a funny way to go about killing us.”

Winston shook his head slowly. “I don’t _think_ so. After all, they’re no longer working for Talon, and I know that Odile - and Slipstream, for that matter - can approach us without violence _if_ they think it’s important enough.” He took off his glasses and rubbed a hand over his face. “They haven’t directly attempted to attack any Overwatch members in quite some time.”

Hana snorted. “You and I both know they still have a list - and I’m pretty sure my name is near the top. 76 and Reaper, too.” Something Winston had said made her back up, mentally, and she tilted her head slightly. “Speaking of the crossrip...do you think it’s possible something happened again? Either the Tracer you encountered or something - some _one_ \- else?”

“The odds would be spectacularly low,” Winston replaced his glasses and tapped on his keyboard. “And I’ve been trying to monitor for chronal disturbances ever since we learned it _might_ be possible. No indications of anything. All evidence suggests that is _our_ Slipstream, not an impostor or doppleganger.”

Hana sat up with a jolt of anger. “She’s not _our_ anything, Winston! That  _thing_ is not Lena!”

Winston gave her a pained look. “Hana…”

Hana fell back heavily into her chair, embarrassment and shame flooding through her. “I...sorry,” she whispered. “I just can’t, Winston.”

Winston’s face fell as he nodded. “She was my friend too, Hana.”

“I know, I know…” Hana sighed. “Fuck. We’re way off topic right now. Back to why I called - any guess on what’s going on?”

Winston grunted and closed his eyes for a long moment. “Right now...I think Slipstream wants something. I’m not sure if Sombra knows what she’s looking for, but it almost seems like she’s putting a team together to get it.”

Hana considered that, tapping her water bottle against the table. “A hacker and an architech are pretty serious business. Any guess what the end goal might be?”

Winston sighed as he leaned back. “Not enough data to draw a conclusion - yet. But let’s see who she “recruits” next...it might just give us a clue.”

* * *

Sombra had to admit that Slipstream didn’t skimp on the creature comforts.

The small private jet that Slipstream apparently owned had a wide open cabin, with comfortable couch style seats, a pair of bathrooms, a galley, and a bedroom area behind a sliding door that Slipstream had politely informed them “not to even fucking think about going into” before she’d made her way into the cockpit and started to preflight for takeoff.

Satya pursed her lips shortly after the cockpit door had closed and Slipstream had flipped on the “Fasten Seat Belts” sign. “I was under the impression Lena no longer had a valid pilot’s license.”

Sombra grimaced. “First - between you and me? Don’t use that name - and _especially_ don’t call her Tracer - or you might be figuring out how to eat without your _other_ hand.”

Satya’s eyes narrowed behind her visor. “She is that dissociated?”

Sombra shook her head. “The process they put her through...Slipstream isn’t kidding when she said Lena Oxton is dead. It’s not disassociation and there’s no going back. If it was possible, Odette Lacroix wouldn’t have existed. She would have been...well. Amélie Guillard, if she had gone back to her maiden name.” Sombra grimaced. “I never got a sense from Odile that she cared much about Amélie, Widow, or even Odette...but Slipstream _hates_ Lena, and she doesn’t want to be reminded she existed.”

Satya shivered slightly. “I...see. And the pilot’s license?”

“The knowledge was all there. Passing a test is easy under an assumed name...and Lena might have worried about the risks of her accelerator interfering with instruments or an aircraft without AI assist like Overwatch’s _Orca_ transports, but Slipstream wants to fly and doesn’t really care about anything else.”

Satya’s lips quirked as she felt the aircraft start to taxi towards one of the runways. “I suppose not…” She looked around the cabin, and then turned to look out the window at the apron. “If her implant or other equipment was going to cause the aircraft to fail, it seems likely it would have happened by now.”

Sombra nodded, putting a few displays up as she pulled out her tablet for the flight. “Probably. Either way, we got here just fine, and she flew us from Mexico, so I’d think India to Japan will be a snap.”

Satya straightened. “Japan? Where are we going in Japan?”

Sombra chuckled. “Oh, just wait and see…”


	4. Dragon's Den

When Satya Vaswani had been part of Overwatch - when she’d been _Symmetra_ but no longer answering to Vishkar, after realizing how corrupt and twisted their “perfect world” truly was - she’d surprised herself by making several friends in the organization, including both of the Shimada brothers.

With Hanzo, she’d had more contemplative moments. A late night cup of tea on an evening when she found herself unable to rest. Peace, in an often chaotic environment.

Genji, on the other hand, had been one of the members of the organization who had made an effort to gentle tease Satya from her protective shell of social aloofness, often indulging in ridiculous puns and strange jokes to try to get her to laugh, or telling stories of his rather _colorful_ childhood.

Despite that, she’d never expected to actually see Hanamura, much less stand in the shadow of Shimada Castle.

The blend of the modern and traditional in Hanamura was architecturally fascinating, if occasionally a bit jarring. She would have enjoyed several days to simply walk the city, take pictures, and appreciate the unique styles.

Unfortunately, it seemed they had more pressing business.

“What I don’t entirely understand,” Sombra said as she twirled udon noodles on her chopsticks, “is why they keep him _here_.”

Slipstream paused with a karage meatball halfway to her mouth, then put the morsel back into the little serving dish. “Really?”

Sombra’s eyes flicked to Satya, then back. “Yes, really. I mean, I heard you...acquired him for Talon, before, but I figured they’d give him the ‘join or die’ offer, maybe...something else. Not throw him back to his family.”

Satya didn’t need context to understand what ‘something else’ might have been, and apparently neither did Slipstream.

“Dragons,” Slipstream answered, then went back to shoveling food into her mouth. Satya remembered Lena’s relentless metabolism, and it seemed that Slipstream had inherited it along with her progenitor’s knowledge and memories.

Satya hadn’t thought Slipstream’s one word answer would satisfy Sombra, but to her surprise Sombra slurped up her noodles, chewed thoughtfully, and then swallowed before giving a soft ‘Huh.’

She waited for Slipstream to stand up and head for the restroom before she leaned across the table. “What do dragons have to do with any of this?”

Sombra took a sip from her broth before she answered. “You saw the Shimadas, and how they could summon them, right?”

Satya nodded slowly. “A family...inheritance, as I understand it.” Some kind of weapon or illusory trick, because there was _no such thing as magic_.

Sombra raised an eyebrow. “Well. The legends say that only a Shimada can pull that off...and that the dragons will only obey their master. If I had to guess…Talon decided that if they’d tried to force the issue, the dragons might have been lost.”

Satya’s eyes widened as she realized what Sombra was implying. “Because they - _he_ \- wouldn’t have been the same person?”

“Mmhm.” Sombra picked at the last of her noodles. “So if you can’t get what you want out of him, might as well see what you can get on the open market instead.”

“I...see.” Satya sat back and considered that, turning the idea over. “But that doesn’t explain why _we_ are here.”

Sombra looked as if she was about to answer when several thousand yen banknotes hit the table in front of her in a little pile.

“Finish up,” Slipstream instructed quietly. “We need to get ready to do some real work.”

* * *

With Slipstream in a dark fleece jacket that concealed her accelerator and Satya wearing a long sleeved blouse that concealed her artificial arm along with a tasteful skirt, they made a remarkably nondescript pair of tourists exploring the Old Quarter.

“I’m into the municipal camera system,” Sombra reported from back at their hotel. “Not much going on...but I am seeing some pretty heavy patrols around the castle.”

Slipstream gave Satya a smile that would have seemed quite genuinely flirtatious to an outside observer, then pointed at an elaborate diorama in the window of what appeared to be a hobby shop. The scene depicted a pair of samurai facing a massive horde of bandits at a bridge, and both Samurai wore armor that had been painted with dragon motifs. “Nice work. How many d’you think there are?”

Satya gave a little hum, as if considering it. (She could count 47 figures on the bridge itself, and another 13 grouped in a little cluster on the opposite shore, but she knew Slipstream wasn’t really asking her.)

“Looks like five patrols of six each,” Sombra reported. “Most have at least one Omnic with them. Big, boosted industrial models. Power, not speed. Wouldn’t surprise me if they have a few after market mods.”

“Anniversary’s coming up,” Slipstream said warmly as she slipped her arm around Satya’s waist. It took an effort of will for her not to flinch or shy away. She had become used to isolation, and physical contact of _any_ kind was still a bit of an overwhelming experience, but particularly from a woman she still did not fully trust.

“Yeah,” Sombra confirmed grimly. “Seems like the Clan is expecting a visitor. Think he might show tonight?”

“He had _better_ not,” Slipstream growled softly, almost too low for Satya to hear without the assistance of her comm. “We’ve got enough to deal with, and I _don’t_ like seeing my hard work wasted.”

Satya waited until they had cleared the shopping arcade and were turning down a narrow alleyway that ran parallel to Shimada Castle’s heavy walls before she indulged her curiosity. “May I ask you something?”

Slipstream looked back and forth down the alley, then nodded. “We’ve got a few minutes until the next patrol cycle and guard change.”

“Talon wanted him for the dragons. I am aware that the...current occupants...acquired him out of a need for revenge.” Satya met Slipstream’s eyes, and did her best not to think of Lena. “I am very curious what _you_ want him for.”

Slipstream pursed her lips, then unzipped her jacket, casting a faint halo of light from the accelerator’s slowly rotating emitter onto the stone street. “Would you like the honest answer, or the one that will make you feel good?”

“That question makes me curious about how would you have attempted to...sugar coat your answer.” Satya reached into the purse she had been carrying and settled her visor and ear pieces into place.

Slipstream chuckled. “I could tell you that after being a prisoner myself, I’ve become a big believer in personal freedom - and I’m trying to do right by him, seeing as I sort of got him locked up in the first place.”

Satya tilted her head. “I was not aware you were imprisoned - outside of your enforced allegiance to Talon, at least.”

“Ran into a little situation out of town,” Slipstream answered breezily. “ _Way_ out of town.”

Satya hummed softly as she turned that information over. “How long?”

“Several months,” Slipstream grunted. “Which is several months too many, in my opinion.”

Satya didn’t disagree, based on her own recent experiences. “And what would the honest answer be?”

Slipstream shrugged. “Still partly the feel good one...but also because there’s someone I need to speak with. Someone who can do something very, very important to me. Someone who isn’t going to let me see a glimpse of her unless I can give her _incentive._ ”

“And he is...incentive? Some kind of... bait?”

“No,” Slipstream corrected. “You’re _both_ the incentive.” Her lips turned up in an arrogant little smirk. “So do me a favor and avoid getting dead.” She looked down at her watch, then back to Satya. “Speaking of - time to set up.”

Satya energized her arm’s creation array. “This is a remarkably basic construct. You could have simply brought a ladder.”

Slipstream snorted. “Yeah, because I could hide _that_ under a jacket.”

“I am simply reminding you I am capable of creating much more complex items.” Satya continued to draw out the scaling ladder, making sure it would rest against the castle wall just below one of the gaps between the natural rock and the old wooden gate.

“I know,” Slipstream assured her with a surprisingly kind tone. “But I also know you’ve been out of the game for better than two years, and even if you’ve had a chance to practice with the new arm, we’re going into a combat situation. I don’t want to put too much on your shoulders too quickly.”

“That is...surprisingly considerate,” Satya admitted as she anchored the ladder into the rock. “You are not what I expected from our last meeting, Slipstream.”

Slipstream chuckled darkly as she took hold of the ladder and began to climb. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”


	5. Change Of Plans

When Slipstream had extracted Satya from Vishkar’s custody, she had been restrained. Careful. Surgical.

She had focused on avoidance or non-lethal tactics where possible, and though Satya was very aware that the time manipulating woman was an assassin, it had been a surprisingly bloodless incident.

Here, inside the walls of Shimada Castle, Slipstream was anything _but_ surgical.

Once they had infiltrated the compound, the plan they had worked out had called for them to split up.

Satya was to slowly make her way into the bowels of the castle, using her experience in infiltration and espionage to remain unseen as she sought their target.

Slipstream was to be the distraction that would ensure she could work with minimal fear of discovery, and she was rather skilled at that task.

She’d held back at Vishkar because she recognized that 90% of the rank and file were just like Satya had been, once upon a time. People who were indoctrinated into the party line to some extent or another and just wanted to put in a decent day of work, get paid, and go home.

The Shimada clan were another matter. Not only were they a group of hardened criminals who were serving the remnants of the once powerful crime syndicate by choice, but they were almost to a man tooled up and ready for a fight at any time, which meant fair game as far as she was concerned.

Not that they actually gave Slipstream much of a _challenge_ , really. The number of clan members augmented by cybernetics or other means was pretty small these days, and more than a few had been smoking or uploading the drugs of their choice, which left them sluggish and slow - fairly easy pickings even if she _hadn’t_ been cheating and pulling herself around in time.

Really, the only thing about the running battle that had extended from the courtyard to the family’s elaborate dojo / shrine that even started to be amusing to Slipstream was the fact that these bellends still called themselves the Shimada Clan even after the last _actual_ Shimadas had walked away and told the rest to fuck off.

History and legacy was grand, but as far as she was concerned, that really seemed like the point where rebranding might be in order.

She’d just finished slamming one of the Clan’s beefier foot soldiers headfirst into the great temple bell with a quite satisfying _*bwong*_ when the doors to the castle’s inner keep opened, and a swarm of mooks in black suits boiled out into the courtyard

Slipstream turned to face them, holstered her pistols, then tightened the cuffs of her gloves with a smirk.

“Alright, lads. Who’s first?”

* * *

Slipstream was right, Satya realized. She _was_ out of practice. Where once it had been easy to slip silently through corridors and penetrate security like the flow of water around a rock, she found herself hesitating. 

It was fortunate that Slipstream’s distractions had called out the castle’s occupiers. If a fairly straightforward infiltration was proving to be so difficult, Satya wanted to avoid combat if at all possible.

She proceeded down, searching for signs of cells or guards. To her surprise she found no guards, but after what seemed like nearly an hour of searching she located a door that had been secured from the outside, with a table outside that appeared to have been vacated in a hurry, likely when Slipstream’s attack had raised the alarm.

Satya examined the cell door and locking mechanism. She normally would attempt to circumvent the electronic keypad and then use a hard light construct to act as a skeleton key. In this case, however, subtlety was not actually a requirement, so she took three steps back, drew her photon projector, and slagged the works with a concentrated burst of power.

She waited a few seconds for the metal to cool, then reached out with her artificial hand to pull the door open, holding her breath as she stepped inside. She hoped the Shimada Clan had not been keeping a _second_ prisoner under such conditions.

Fortunately, she realized once she entered the room that was not the case.

The occupant of the cell had his back to the door, kneeling in _seiza_ , but the long fall of dark hair shot through with iron grey that ran down his back was quite familiar, and the set of his shoulders beneath the light blue robes was instantly recognizable to her.

“It has been some time since someone was sent to kill me,” Hanzo Shimada murmured softly. “It almost feels nostalgic, really.”

Satya couldn’t help but laugh softly, and she watched Hanzo stiffen with shock at the sound. “I am sorry to disappoint you, but that is not why I am here.”

Hanzo whirled as he stood, his hair flying like a storm cloud around him. His eyes were wide with shock, and what had been a neat goatee was now a full beard that nearly touched his chest. “ _Satya?”_

She could not resist the urge to raise her hand in a little wave. “Good evening.”

She was not entirely sure what she had expected Hanzo to do in response to that, but falling to his knees and bowing until his forehead touched the floor. “Can you forgive me for how I failed you?”

Satya’s brows knit, her head tilting to the side. “You did no such thing.”

Hanzo’s eyes flicked up to her. “We were captured - I swore to my brother I would protect you with my life.” The unspoken message was clear: He felt guilt for surviving yet again.

Satya reached out her organic hand. They did not have _time_ for this. “We expected Talon wanted to kill us. You could not have anticipated the shift in tactics - and you fought until exhaustion, even then. You did everything you could - but it will be for nothing if we do not leave this place.”

Hanzo’s eyes narrowed for a moment in thought before he stood with a nod. “True enough. We can speak of this when we are somewhere safe.” His hands flexed slightly. “My bow?”

Satya shook her head. “Lost, I am afraid. I was recently given...assistance...myself.”

Hanzo considered that, then started to move swiftly past her and into the hall. “It would be best for me to arm myself, and I know where a weapon can be found.”

Hanzo was certainly moving like the Master of this place, with sure strides that forced Satya to a quick trot to keep up. “My...associates and I are here to get you _out_. How does this serve that purpose?”

Hanzo looked back over his shoulder. “I will be of more use in any escape if I can defend myself.”

Satya could hear the unspoken _‘And you’_ in his statement, but she was willing to let it go - besides, she had to admit that it did make some sense. “What kind of weapon are you taking us to?”

Hanzo’s shoulders rose with a deep breath, and she could see a slight tremor run through him before he spoke. “One I should not have left behind, even if I did not wish to carry it.”

Satya was left to puzzle that as she followed him through the castle’s halls.

* * *

The chance to cut loose had been very, very satisfying.

Slipstream wasn’t trying to kill the Yakuza who had come out to stop her, but she wasn’t _not_ trying to kill them, either. If a kill shot was the best move in the moment, she used it. If a non-lethal move made more sense, she used it.

She didn’t let herself think about the sheer numbers, or the edge of hunger mixed with fatigue that had started to creep up on her as she’d handed the umpeenth mook his ass. She could go all night if she had to, but the more she fought and the more she bounced around in her accelerator, the more her metabolism was going to be demanding food, and a lot of it.

She’d finally started breaking a sweat when Sombra’s voice crackled over her comm. “You want good news or bad news first?”

Slipstream boxed her latest dance partner’s ears, then used an accelerator boosted knee to the jaw to send him sprawling. “Bad - always. Might as well know what I’m dealing with.”

Sombra gave a soft little ‘heh’. “Fair enough. Satya found your ‘package’, but he isn’t interested in sneaking out quietly.”

Slipstream gave a little growl in the back of her throat as she blinked into midair, then powerbombed a bruiser type in the back of the head, her boot making a lovely _crack_ as it connected with his skull. “What’s the fucking point of being a _ninja_ if you’re going to be loud and obnoxious?”

Sombra snorted with amusement. “I think this is along the lines of making a statement.”

Slipstream gave a short bark of laughter. She could understand _that_. Turning slowly around the courtyard, she blinked as she realized no one was trying to challenge her. “What, was that it?”

“Pretty much,” Sombra confirmed. “Congratulations, you just beat up an entire gang.”

“Marvy.” Slipstream looked around at her handiwork with more than a touch of pride, and felt a pang of frustration that her Swan wouldn’t see it. “You never told me the good news.”

She could hear the smirk in Sombra’s voice. “Well, I _was_ going to mention you were almost done - but I think Satya finding him and getting him to agree to come with her is a pretty good one, too.”

“True enough.”


	6. The Dragon's Breath

Satya followed Hanzo until they reached a small courtyard, with a small pagoda in the center, and a larger building of wood and stone looming in front of them.

They had made it halfway across the courtyard when there was a sound like wire being cut, combined with the sound of air being displaced as Slipstream appeared in a flash of light.

“What part of ‘get him out of here safely’ translated to ‘march right into the fucking heart of the castle’, Satya?”

Hanzo whirled, his hands up in a guard position, while Satya holstered her projector and just shrugged at her ‘employer.’

“He insisted I follow him. I did not think it was a good use of our limited time to argue.”

 _“You!”_ Hanzo’s eyes were narrowed with anger, his back stiff. “I have refused Talon every time they sought me out. My answer is _still_ no.”

Slipstream just shrugged. “As it happens we agree on that one right now. I’m not here for Talon - I’m here for you.” It seemed like Slipstream had been about to say something, but cut herself off and let Hanzo answer her instead.

“To what end, ‘Slipstream’?” Hanzo crossed his arms, straightening back up to his full height. “What interest do you have in me?”

Slipstream shifted uncomfortably under his scrutiny, but she carefully kept her hands away from her pistols. “I need someone’s help. I know she’d like to see some proof that I can do the right thing before I get my foot in the door. Freeing you... _both_ of you...is part of that.”

Satya raised an eyebrow. Slipstream had implied as much, earlier, but it was interesting to hear her goals put plainly.

Hanzo gave a little grunt. “I take it you were the one responsible for distracting the guards?”

“Among others, yeah.” Slipstream’s smirk was rather like Lena’s old smile after a job well done, but tempered with more than a hint of cruelty. “Left most of them alive, but the hospital’s going to be doing some good business today.”

“I am surprised by your kindness,” Hanzo admitted. “But you did not answer all of my question. You want someone’s help. You find freeing us to be a path to their aid. But why are you seeking them out?”

Slipstream’s entire being seemed to grow tense, as if she was fighting an urge to leave the conversation, but it was clear she found it important to stay. As she’d made clear, she would not be swayed from her goal. In an odd sort of way, Satya felt admiration for how she was handling the situation. “I’ve got a whole raft of reasons,” she finally admitted, “but the ones that you’re going to care about are family, redemption, and revenge...not necessarily in that order.”

Hanzo remained still for a long moment, then gave Slipstream something that was a bit more than a nod, but a bit less than a bow. “Very well. I appreciate your assistance. Allow me to retrieve that which is _mine_ , and we will go.”

Slipstream sagged with relief, her eyes closing in a sigh. “Right. Fine. Whatever it is, grab it and let’s go.”

Hanzo turned to lead them into what Satya realized was the family’s _dojo_ , and she waited for him to disappear through the entrance before she approached Slipstream.

“Are you alright?”

Slipstream blew a slow breath out of her nose and shook her head. “No. Not really. But we’re short on time. Let’s see what the crazy fratricidal bastard wants so badly and get the fuck out of this place.”

The paper screen walls and polished wood floors were lit with pools of golden light from the lanterns that had been placed around the dojo floor, leaving much of the periphery in shadow. Satya navigated as much by the blue glow cast by Slipstream’s accelerator and her own prosthetic, but it was not hard to figure out where Hanzo was heading.

Both of them remained quiet save for their footsteps on the _dojo_ floor as they approached the small altar set into the back of the room, where Hanzo had sunk to the floor in Seiza in front of a sword being displayed on a stand before a bloodied and slashed banner.

There was a deep nick in the sword’s blade, running all the way through the tempered edge and the ‘water line’ of hardened steel, and the hilt was wrapped in blue silk. The guard had been worked into the shape of the Shimada clan crest, and Satya took a sharp breath as she realized what Hanzo had come for, the sound of Sombra quietly swearing in Spanish in her ear as her visor transmitted the sight back to the hacker.

“Oh, fuck,” Slipstream whispered. “Is that…?”

“ _Ryū-no-kokyū_ ,” Hanzo answered without turning. “The dragon’s breath.” He bowed to the shrine, then reached out to claim the black lacquered scabbard, slipping it into the belt of his robes and securing it with the scabbard’s golden cord. “This sword has been handed down from one Master of the clan to another for nearly a thousand years. When I betrayed my brother, I felt I lost all right to it...but I shall not allow it to remain in the hands of the fools and pretenders who have usurped this place.”

Hanzo stood, lifted the sword from the stand, and thrust it home into the scabbard before bowing one last time to the shrine. “I will need to replace my bow later, but I am ready to leave.”

Satya gave Hanzo a grave nod, turning to lead them back to where she had broken into the compound, and even Slipstream seemed to have nothing more to add.

* * *

Sombra had joined them when they reached the Hanamura streets, a heavy coat under her arm. “Here,” she explained as she handed the coat to Hanzo, “you’d stick out like a sore thumb _without_ considering the sword, but especially now. Pull this on so you look a little less like you just walked out of a movie set.”

Hanzo scoffed wordlessly, but he still put the coat on.

“Here,” Slipstream offered as she stepped behind him, “let me do something with your hair, too. Make you look a bit less like someone who just got sprung out of the clink.” Tucking his ponytail into a bun wasn’t the most elaborate disguise, but between that change and the coat he would look different enough to avoid casual notice.

“I would advise a haircut,” Satya suggested. “Trimming your beard, as well.”

“Time enough for that when we are away from this place.” Hanzo fidgeted slightly with his collar, then nodded to himself. “Where next?”

“We have a room at a _minshuku_ near the Old City,” Sombra answered.

Hanzo turned to look at her. “Fujioto, or Omuraya?”

Sombra’s smile grew just a bit. “Omuraya.”

“Ah. Good.” Hanzo’s shoulders dropped as he chuckled softly. “It would be a poor plan to stay in a hotel owned by part of the clan - especially after robbing them.”

They dropped into a loose knot with Hanzo at the lead and Slipstream covering the back, the jacket she’d worn to conceal her accelerator zipped back up and her goggles hidden in her coat.

Satya wasn’t _trying_ to eavesdrop, but Sombra also didn’t make a point of being quiet when she dropped back slightly to speak to Slipstream.

“You’ve got a couple of options from here. I think I know where she’s gone to ground, but it might not hurt to have someone make the introductions.”

Slipstream gave a thoughtful hum. “Who’d you have in mind?” 

“You’re not gonna like it, but there’s a new commander at the Helix facility near Oasis.”

Slipstream groaned, and Satya turned enough to see her rubbing at her temple as if trying to ward off a headache. “You’re right, I _don’t_ , but I see the point. I was almost expecting you to suggest...well. Someone with an even bigger grudge and a shorter temper.”

Sombra snorted. “That’s a pretty good sized list, you know.”

Slipstream’s laugh had more than a touch of bitterness to it. “You’re not wrong.”

They lapsed back into silence for several minutes before Sombra spoke again, and this time Satya didn’t bother to hide the fact that she was listening in - and she had a feeling that even though Hanzo hadn’t turned around, he was also taking a interest in the conversation.

“So, you mentioned revenge…”

Slipstream raised an eyebrow. “I seem to recall someone telling me that as soon as she finished the job I gave her, she was going back to her farm.”

Sombra didn’t even pretend to be embarrassed at being called out. “You might have noticed I change my mind, sometimes.”

“Suppose you can at that…” Slipstream caught Satya’s eye, then quickened her pace slightly - just enough to move to the head of their little group. “Once this job is done, we’ll talk. Not before.”

Satya caught Sombra’s eye. “You _are_ curious, aren’t you?”

“Oh, _amiga_ , you have no idea…”


	7. What's In A Name?

There weren’t many things that took Sombra by surprise, but she received one when they arrived at Oasis.

She’d tapped into the little jet’s radio systems out of old habit (you never knew what might come across on a open channel) while she dozed lightly on one of the couches in the main cabin when Slipstream’s voice caught her attention and drew her out of her daydreaming.

_Oasis ATC, this is Foxtrot Seven Uniform Kilo Zed, 15 kilometers east at twenty thousand, requesting approach and landing clearance._

The air traffic controller’s voice wasn’t the usual clipped, robotic delivery - it seemed like there was a genuine bit of warmth there. _Foxtrot Seven, ATC - squawk 3204 and ident, please._

Sombra could actually feel the slight twist in the signals as Slipstream adjusted the plane’s transponder.

_Roger, ATC. Foxtrot Seven squawk 3204, altimeter 29.92_

_Thank you, Foxtrot Seven, you are cleared for ILS approach runway Zero Five Left. Welcome home._

_Cleared ILS Zero Five Left, Foxtrot Seven. Thank you - it’s good to be back._

Sombra pulled herself out of the aircraft’s systems and let Slipstream do the work of bringing them safely down to the ground.

The little jet was lead away from the runway by ground crew, but instead of the charter terminals or a jetway, they were taxied over to a private hangar.

“OK,” she admitted to Slipstream as their pilot came into the cabin after shutting the plane down, “I’m impressed.”

Slipstream smiled, uncomplicated pleasure on her face after the long flight. “The condo we bought here came with a private parking space.”

Hanzo raised an eyebrow. “Those are normally meant for _cars_ , I believe.”

Slipstream shrugged as she opened the door to the boarding stairs so that they could deplane. “We have a very long commute.”

Satya laughed quietly, and Slipstream gave her a little wink before she gestured. “Come on, out you get. I’ve got to close up once you’re all off. Follow the lighted path - I’ll be along.”

They were most of the way to one of the flying trams that carried guests from the airport into the city proper when Slipstream rejoined them, a bag over her shoulder with the rest of her clothes and equipment. “All set. We want the city center tram, south garden stop.” She gave Hanzo a thoughtful look. “You’ll need clothes - among other things. We’ll figure it out after some food.”

Sombra looked over to her. “You need help setting up your next...appointment?”

Slipstream shook her head. “I’ve got it under control.” She gestured to the tram as it arrived, and in the space of minutes she was leading them into an apartment in one of the towers that overlooked the ultramodern city.

“Most of the city’s restaurants deliver here - just look something up and order yourself a few things. I’m going to grab a nap. Spare bedrooms are down the hall, bathroom on the right, don’t use my shower pouf.”

The door to what was obviously the master bedroom slammed a few minutes later, and Sombra considered it for a long moment before she turned around to look at the others.

“So. You guys want food, or do we want to go get dragon-boy some real clothes?”

* * *

They ended up arranging for a delivery of food that Sombra was able to bill to the apartment, and Satya found several stores that would deliver clothing and other items as long as you had the proper sizes, which Hanzo reluctantly allowed after she insisted he stand for a fitting.

It was nearing evening, and the others eventually decided to head to bed and work on getting themselves on the local time, but Sombra decided it would be better to stay awake and speak to their “hostess” once she’d finished her nap.

Stealing a beer from the apartment’s fridge, she settled on the balcony, enjoying the feeling of the desert air.

There was something a touch antiseptic in the smell of this city - filtered, processed, and cleaned like everything else here. She missed the smell of sea air and the aromas of cooking food from home, or the cold nights on the farm, where the lack of civilization made for breathtaking night skies.  

She’d been lost in thought when the door opened and Slipstream came out onto the balcony to join her, her tactical gear and weapons exchanged for a pair of shorts and a black tank top, the anchor implant’s faint glow coming through the fabric.  

“Figured everyone would have turned in.”

Sombra shrugged. “Thought it would be rude. Besides - I was hoping to talk. I wanted to ask you about something.”

Slipstream raised an eyebrow as she settled into the chair. “Yeah? Fire away, then.”

“First off…” Sombra gestured to the apartment. “You own this place?”

“ _We_ do,” Slipstream corrected. “Yeah. Do a fair bit of business here - fewer legal restrictions, for one thing. It’s almost as neutral as Switzerland, and we’re a hell of a lot more comfortable here.”

“What about...you-know-who? This is practically her backyard.”

Slipstream gave a dark smile. “She stays on her side of town. We...have an understanding.” Her smile faded. “Or at least we used to.”

Sombra raised an eyebrow. “That why you’re trying to talk to _her_ instead?”

Slipstream grunted, but didn’t elaborate, so Sombra decided to take another tack.

“So why do you still use your Talon codename?”

Slipstream’s head whipped around. “Look, for the _last_ fucking time -”

Sombra held up her hand. “I _know_ you’re not her. I know that. Believe me.”

That seemed to pacify Slipstream a bit. “So what’re you on about, then?”

“Slipstream was the name Talon gave you when they created you.” Sombra took a pull of her beer. “So, of course you use it while you're still their _property_ , you don't have any choice. What else you gonna use? But you keep saying you’re not Talon anymore. Either of you. You could pick any name you wanted, right?”

Slipstream bristled at being called property, but didn’t debate the point. She turned her head out to the golden skyline of the city, but her eyes were distant. Sombra could tell she wasn’t looking at anything in front of them, and decided to push one more time.

"If you’re free now - why are you still using your _designation_ , Slipstream?”

Slipstream laughed darkly. “I don’t give a damn what anyone else calls me. The only thing that’s ever mattered to me was the first thing _she_ called me, the day our handlers finally let us stand in the same room.”

Sombra raised an eyebrow. “So what was that, then?”

Slipstream’s usual smirk turned into a wistful smile, and her voice softened as she closed her eyes. _“You.”_

Sombra went still, waiting to see if Slipstream would say anything more, but the assassin just slumped in her chair, her whole body seeming to deflate.

“This...all of this...it’s for _her_ , isn’t it?”

Slipstream’s eyes opened slowly, still not looking at her before she spoke at last, her voice low. “ _Everything_ I do is for her.”

As Sombra considered that, Slipstream rose silently and opened the sliding door. “I’m fucking _starving_. Think I’ll see if there’s anything left from that dinner you ordered. You can stay out here if you like.”

The door slid closed as Sombra turned the conversation over in her head, replaying it several times until the last light went off inside the apartment, and she decided that perhaps she ought to get some sleep after all.

* * *

When Talon had struck back at the reborn Overwatch using some of their oldest friends, the members had decided to go underground. Find safety and peace, where possible, and continue to find ways to fight back against the swelling darkness.

For Fareeha Amari, that had meant returning to the organization that had given her a home and a purpose the _first_ time her life had been torn apart.

She had been wracked by grief at the second loss of her mother, at the shattering of her lifelong dream, at the pain of so many lost friends, but Fareeha was a soldier. She didn’t give up easily, and when she had a duty to perform, she would see it out.

Talon had escalated attacks on HSI and different national forces even as they sent Odile and Slipstream out to wreak havoc, and Helix had been ecstatic to see a veteran field commander return to help stem their losses and bring a number of useful contacts and hard won experience in facing their most dangerous enemy.

Fareeha had thrived in leading Helix’s best and brightest, and though she had resisted promotion for as long as she could, she knew a desk job would be in her future.

_Still_ , she thought as she sipped her coffee and looked over her morning agenda at HSI Oasis, _it could be worse._ Iraq wasn’t Egypt, but it was close to her home, without the painful memories of her last mission at the Temple of Anubis to overshadow her day to day work.

She had a good crew here, incidents were relatively few and far between because of the general _detente_ around Oasis, and Fareeha had a few opportunities to ‘stretch her legs’ here and there with the latest model Raptora suits to keep in practice.

All in all, it was an excellent posting for field commander to learn the ropes of being a staff officer.

She’d nearly reached the end of the agenda when an item caught her eye, and Fareeha punched the intercom to reach her adjutant. “Sarina? What’s this ‘Liason’ meeting at eleven hundred hours?”

“It came in from headquarters a few hours ago,” Sarina explained. “Apparently one of the private military companies asked if they could have a meeting with us. Possibility of future joint operations and the usual business matters.”

Fareeha frowned. “Why isn’t Lieutenant Aoun handling it?”

She could almost hear the shrug in Sarina’s voice. “As I understand it, they asked to meet with you specifically, Colonel.”

That set off some alarm bells for her. “Did the PMC give us information on who is coming in to see me?”

“Just the company name: ‘Cygninae Operations’.”

Fareeha tapped her fingers against her desk for a moment. “I’ll take the meeting - but I want a ‘courtesy’ escort for our guest the entire time.”

“Yes ma’am!”


	8. Stages of Grief

Slipstream would always be a shorts and t-shirts type around the house, but when she needed to look presentable she took a great deal of pride in dressing for the occasion.

In this case, meeting with Fareeha Amari as a corporate peer demanded a certain language, and she had put a fair bit of thought into her wardrobe.

Walking boots, not running gear or impractical dress shoes.

Black slacks with nicely pressed creases, but not cut to evoke her normal tactical gear.

A sports bra with special padding to conceal the anchor implant’s glowing core.

A white polo shirt, with the black “resting swan” logo they’d chosen for their semi-legit cover embroidered on the breast.

Wireframe glasses with a slight tint to the lenses - enough to help with the mid-day sun but not obscure her eyes entirely - completed the look, and she spent twenty minutes combing back her short, spiky hair until it finally laid down and looked reasonably smart.

“Not bad,” Slipstream murmured to herself as she checked over the final results. “Wish you were here to look me over though.”

For a moment her imagination took a reflection of the light coming in through the window and transformed it into a pair of yellow-gold eyes looking at her in the mirror, Odile’s murmuring voice in her ear.

_Bientôt, ma coeur._

She hissed through gritted teeth as pain shot through her chest, and Slipstream had to grab the bathroom sink to keep herself from cracking, the iron grip she’d kept on herself nearly slipping away.

The phantom reflection was gone when she looked back into the mirror, and the pain and need transformed themselves into a rising tide of anger that demanded an outlet.

“Get a _FUCKING_ grip!” Slipstream’s hand slammed painfully into the marble countertop as she shouted at herself, and she chose to focus on the physical discomfort instead of her emotional turmoil. “You have a _job_ to do.”

“Pretty hard to grip things with a broken hand,” Sombra observed dryly. Slipstream stiffened and turned towards the bathroom door, where the hacker was leaning against the doorframe, a look of concern in her eyes despite her tone. “First aid kit?”

Slipstream turned and gestured with her head at the cabinet. “Second shelf. There’s a biotic patch.” She raised her hand and carefully tested opening and closing it, hissing at the complaints from her abused knuckles. “Hurts, but I don’t think anything’s actually broken.”

Sombra glared as she pulled out a slap patch from the kit - enough biotics to treat a minor injury, a little analgesic. “Here - put this on and don’t do anything else stupid, ok? What were you even thinking?”

Slipstream huffed as she applied the patch, putting the toilet seat cover down so she could sit as the pain in her hand began to ease. “Just...had to let things out a little. Been pulling a Tracer for too bloody long.”

Sombra raised an eyebrow, silently demanding an elaboration, and Slipstream looked down at the floor before she finally spoke again.

“Do you have any idea how much she held back? How she tried to just...keep that fucking smile on no matter how she felt?” Slipstream shook her head. “Play nice. Play fair. Don’t cry. Don’t frown. Don’t let them see you sweat. Don’t let them know you’re scared.” She snorted with disgust. “The fucking poster girl was half terrified of getting out of bed.”

“So you don’t hold anything back,” Sombra said quietly. “That’s why you’re full blast all the time. Because you don’t want to be her.”

Slipstream laughed bitterly. “Funny how I _have_ to right now. Do you have _any_ idea how hard this is? Knowing it _killed_ her?”

Sombra shook her head. _“Talon_ killed her, _rápida_.”

“Six of one, half dozen of the other.” Slipstream looked up from the bathroom floor and peeled the patch off, her knuckles popping a bit as she flexed her fingers but otherwise free of pain.

“They’d have broken her any way they could. If that hadn’t worked, they’d have tried something else until it did.” Sombra’s voice softened, sympathy in her eyes. ”You _know_ that.”

Slipstream didn’t respond. She turned to face the window and looked out at the city as she flexed her hand until Sombra sighed, letting the topic go.

“Anyway. You good now?” Sombra smirked. “After all, you’ve got a date.”

Slipstream groaned. “Don’t even go there.” She stood, looked down at her hand again, then back to the mirror. “Just...give me a minute. I’ll be out.”

Sombra gave her a searching look, then nodded. “OK. You want anything to eat?”

“No,” Slipstream shook her head. “I’m fine for now. After, maybe.”

Sombra shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

“I usually do,” Slipstream replied, then turned back to face Sombra. “And...thanks.”

Sombra’s smile was a lot closer to genuine as she tossed a little salute. “No problem.”

When Slipstream walked out to the kitchen she wasn’t surprised to see all three of her “guests” sitting around the table waiting for her. Sombra gave her a nod of greeting, keeping her expression carefully guarded while Hanzo and Satya pushed the remnants of breakfast around on their plates.

“There’s a pretty good barber near the University,” Slipstream informed Hanzo before any of them could try to take control of the conversation. “If you wanted to change up your hair and beard they can get you taken care of.” She gave Sombra a resigned smile as she tossed her a credit card. “I’m guessing you’d take the cost out of my pocket anyway, but bring back a receipt. Business expenses, you know.”

Sombra gave a negligent shrug as she made the card disappear inside her coat. “Do I look like I file taxes?”

“Money makes the world go round,” Slipstream observed before she turned her focus back to Hanzo. “Anyway. There’s an armourer and a couple of gunsmiths in the city who are happy to work to client specs and not ask questions. If you wanted to replace that bow of yours and your fancy arrows…”

Hanzo gave a grunt but didn’t sound like he was dismissing the idea. “And what will you be doing in that time?”

“I’ve got an appointment to keep,” Slipstream answered coolly. “One that may help with giving you and Satya a place to land.”

“I would not entirely object to remaining here,” Satya admitted as she looked out the window. “This place is a stunning combination of form and function.”

“It’s pretty,” Slipstream agreed, “but it has its downsides.”

“Everyone does business here,” Sombra agreed. _“Everyone."  
_

Satya gave a soft ‘ah.’ of realization. “I think I see your point.”

“Long as we don’t start too much trouble,” Slipstream reassured her, “it shouldn’t be an issue. Like I said - you three are welcome to go take care of your own things while I’m gone.”

Sombra sighed as she sat down at the table. “Not sure I like you going in alone.”

“That makes two of us,” Slipstream agreed, “but Amari will be more receptive to a professional approach.”

Sombra nodded after a moment. “Probably, yeah.” She turned her head slightly to take in the others. “You gonna tell them what you’re asking Fareeha for? They deserve to know.”

Slipstream thought for a moment about her earlier breakdown. Under the circumstances she _did_ need to rebuild some trust. She gave Sombra a nod, acknowledging the point, then looked at Hanzo and Satya before she took the last seat at the table. “Ok, yeah, guess I might as well…”

* * *

Fareeha hadn’t slept well knowing who would be coming to see her the next day.

She wasn’t _afraid_ , exactly - if Slipstream wanted to kill her, there were much easier ways than to book a meeting - but she’d learned enough to know that the woman Talon had made from her friend was a wild card now.

Wild cards had a habit of making things complicated, and Fareeha had a bad feeling that Slipstream was about to make her life very, _very_ complicated.

She’d murdered most of a pot of coffee while she’d prepared for this meeting, pulling out the dress uniform she so rarely used and putting her ribbons and rank tabs on _just so_ to make it clear she was doing this as a representative of Helix, and not out of any personal desire to give Slipstream the time of day.

Slipstream seemed to be presenting herself the same way, a carefully bland expression on her face as she let herself be scanned for weapons at the front security gate.

“All clear,” the detail chief reported as he finished his work.

Fareeha nodded. “Thank you, Sergeant.” She waited for Slipstream to clear the holding area, then nodded to her as the protective escorts fell in discretely behind them. “Welcome to Helix Oasis.”

“Thank you, Colonel Amari.” Slipstream smiled pleasantly, and she could almost believe she was talking to Lena again. “Lovely looking place.”

Fareeha kept her voice as neutral as she could, the model of professional courtesy. “I could take you on a short tour, if you like.”

Slipstream seemed to consider that, then shook her head. “I think it might be best if we got down to business, but I appreciate the offer.”

Fareeha had to admit she hadn’t expected Slipstream to offer that much courtesy. “I see. Shall we continue this in my office?”

“After you.”

They walked to the command post and admin building in silence, but it seemed more respectful than tense, and Fareeha gave a hand signal to the detail to remain outside while she lead Slipstream to her inner office, giving Sarina a look to stay at her desk, then latching the door and activating a white noise jammer.

Fareeha let a little of her professional mask slip as she turned to look at Slipstream, who had taken up a loose parade rest stance.

“You wanted to talk,” Fareeha said flatly. “Talk.”

Slipstream laughed lightly as she pulled out one of the chairs around the small conference table at the back of her office. “That’s direct. Here I thought you might have gotten soft at your nice desk.”

Fareeha clenched her fists, struggling to keep her temper in line. “I’m not a very subtle person, Slipstream.”

“No,” Slipstream murmured. “I suppose not.” She straightened in the chair. “Fine. I came here because I need you to pass a message to someone, Colonel. Someone who wouldn’t trust me if I tried to contact her directly.”

Fareeha raised an eyebrow. “You have Sombra working for you, last I heard.”

Slipstream snorted derisively. “I said the messenger needed to be someone Ziegler will _trust_.”

 _Well._ Fareeha froze, her brain blanking with surprise. _That explains why Slipstream wanted me._

“Shit,” Slipstream muttered with frustration, “I guess I gave away the game a bit, there.”

“You…” Fareeha tried to find words and failed, taking the seat facing the former Talon agent instead. “You and Odile spent _three years_ trying to avoid her at all costs. I’ve seen reports stating you refused to even take contracts in the same _countries_ where she was operating after she went back to _Médecins Sans Frontières._ ”

The cracks in Slipstream’s pleasantly professional mask widened as she stiffened, anger seeping into her words. “Things have changed. Believe me, if I thought I had _any_ other option I’d take it.”

Fareeha examined her thoughtfully, and to her surprise Slipstream actually _flinched_.

“ _Fuck_. You look exactly like your mum when you do that.”

The mention of her mother sent ice through Fareeha’s veins, hardening her lingering anger like cooling lava. “I didn’t think you knew her that well, since you insist that you’re not Lena.”

Slipstream looked back at her, pain and anger warring in her eyes. “I’m _not_. But I remember when she looked at me like that. It’s hard to forget the way someone looks at you just before she died.”

“When you _killed her_ ,” Fareeha hissed as she rose from her chair, feeling a stabbing ache in her chest. “Did you think I’d forget that?”

Slipstream seemed to struggle to control herself, emotions warring on her face before a sort of weary resignation washed over her, and when she spoke her voice was a low, tired rasp, utterly devoid of humor. “No,” she said softly, “I didn’t. But if you sit back down, I can tell you why she asked me to.”


	9. Legends Fall

Slipstream thrilled as she ran through the narrow alleys of Lijang, her blood singing with adrenaline as she heard the distinctive _tink_ of a biotic dart embedding itself into concrete.

“Think you could keep granny occupied, gorgeous?”

Odile’s reply was a grunt and the sound of her grapple firing. “I have been trying to get a good angle away from the _oaf_. How does a man that old move so quickly in that armor?”

“Well,” Slipstream mused as she blinked upwards, spotting where Reinhardt had flung himself through one of the outdoor gardens that surrounded the night market in an attempt to close and flatten her partner, “the rocket engine probably helps. Thinking we trade dance partners?”

“ _Oui_. Let me stalk my prey, but be careful...he is a fool, but she is cunning. She may be expecting this.”

Slipstream smirked as she saw a hint of glowing green and blew a kiss towards it before she teleported away again. “She’s good, but you’re better.”

“You say the most lovely things, _ma coeur.”_ There was a _crack_ as Odile fired at a target somewhere behind her, and Slipstream leapt from one shop’s awning to the next until a ball of fire tore through the air, making her yank herself back a few seconds to avoid being scorched.

_“Traitor!”_ Reinhardt raised his hammer in a taunt as he roared, then swung it into a ready position. “ _Monster! FACE ME!”_

Slipstream shook her head as she dropped to the ground. “Can’t betray what I was never a part of, mate.” _Monster_ she didn’t really think needed a response. _Guess he’s still pissed I did for the dwarf. They_ _were_ _pretty good friends._

Unbidden, a fragment of someone else’s memory slipped from wherever it had been lodged and came to mind. Fighting in London while the big one laughed, making fun of the dwarf’s hardware when it failed to fire up correctly. The two of them joking and Ziegler coolly needling them while Lena had been half terrified...

_Fuck that_ , Slipstream thought as she pushed away the unwanted recollection. Fighting was _fun_ and fighting big, cumbersome dance partners who were already too mad to think straight was even better.

Reinhardt scoffed at her. “You _know_ who you are!”

Slipstream’s face turned down into an angry snarl. “Yeah. I _do_.” She let him come in, a wordless battle cry booming from his helmet, ducking beneath the swing of his hammer to fire a few pulse rounds into his side.

The shots from her pistols were like gnats biting an elephant, but they made Reinhardt turn, bringing his shield around. Slipstream snapped to his other side, repeated the process, bounced behind him, fired again.

She wasn’t going to get him down this way, but she was going to hurt him.

That was fine.

Pain was distracting, and she just needed him to make a mistake.

The part of her brain that was keeping track of the overall battle registered a pair of quick shots from Odile, and the sound of another, lower pitched shot - almost more of a coughing sound, followed by a sound like breaking glass.

“ _Got_ her,” Odile purred with satisfaction. “She had to use one of her grenades to recover herself. Are you enjoying your dance?”

“Oh,” Slipstream grunted as she ducked another swing and reappeared in midair, firing shots at the catches that mated the Crusader suit’s helmet to the neck and gorget, “you know.” Another fireball passed so close that Slipstream was staggered by the searing heat. “It’s all fun and games until someone loses an eye.”

As if the universe was punishing her for that joke, a dart caught her in the arm, and it was if her entire body suddenly disconnected, boneless and unresponsive as she slammed into the ground.

Odile’s cry of dismay competed in her ears with Reinhardt’s roar of triumph as Slipstream tried to will herself _get up and move, dammit_.

She heard the sound of another bullet striking armor, then the odd crackling thud of bullets striking an energy shield.

_Thank you, Swan._

Pins and needles spread through her body as the sleep dart’s effects wore off, and Slipstream pushed herself up with a painful cough, spitting a bit of blood onto the market square as she got to her feet.

“Appreciate the save, beautiful. Don’t suppose you saw where the dart came from?”

“The noodle shop,” Odile reported before another bullet slammed into Reinhardt’s shield, making spiderwebs appear in the barrier field. If she traced a line between his position and the shop…

_Yeah._

Slipstream blinked towards the shop, firing a burst the moment she saw a flash of blue from Ana Amari’s hijab to force her back behind the counter. “You thinking what I’m thinking?”

“I have the shot,” Odile confirmed. “I will be ready.”

Thermal signatures from cowering civilians and their opponents appeared as Odile activated her visor, the heavy power armor shining like a beacon, while the crouched form of the old sniper attempted to track Slipstream as she bounced around the square.

“Think _I’m_ a traitor? I’m not the one who abandons his friends when it gets hard, Reinhardt!” Slipstream finally stopped bouncing, landing right in the middle of the square, straight arming one of her pistols and spraying rounds into the open front of the noodle shop to keep Ana pinned. “Like you left your friends in the Crusaders! Like you left your mentor to _die!_ Like you left _Overwatch_.”

Reinhardt had gone so still that his armor seemed to be a statue, his armored gauntlets clenching on the haft of his hammer.

“Is there _anyone_ you haven’t run out on when they needed you?”

Taunting him this way was dangerous, but, well, they didn’t call it gambling because it was _safe_.

Reinhardt began to lumber forward, his shoulders dipping into a charge, and there was a roar and a gout of flame as the boosters at his back fired, his hammer primed for a killing blow.

Odile’s shot took him in the back of the neck, punching through one of the spots that Slipstream had weakened, and there was a wet sputtering sound through the amplifier of his suit as Reinhardt began to choke on his own blood.

Slipstream blinked clear as the out of control suit began to roll without the wearer to keep it steady, the joints locked and the hammer stuck in mid-swing. She had _planned_ (in so much as any of this was planned) for Reinhardt’s suit to slam into the heavy column next to the noodle shop, which would have encouraged Amari to break cover to try to help him and let them bring this to a close.

Instead the suit slammed straight through the front of the shop, the hammer wiping out one of the support beams holding up the front of the facade. There was a terrible crash and a cloud of dust as a good bit of the shop and the apartments above it collapsed, the sound like a thousand blocks of wood being dropped as a thick cloud of dust, smoke, and mortar burst through what was left of the frontage.

“... _fuck me running_.” Slipstream turned and looked up to where Odile had run to the edge of the rooftop where she’d been perched. “Maybe a bit _too_ good of a shot there.”

Odile just shrugged, then tilted her head slightly as she dropped her visor back into place. “I see her. She is trapped...but still alive.”

Slipstream hummed, then nodded. “Stay there, pet. Let me go in to take a look.”

The shop was trashed but with the help of Odile steering her she was able to find Amari struggling beneath a good bit of rubble.

She’d jammed another of her biotic darts into her arm, the more potent grenades and the rifle apparently smashed by the falling debris. The hijab she customarily wore had been torn almost in half, revealing a nasty cut that had sent blood spilling down the side of her face and braid.

All of which were secondary to the heavy chunk of steel beam that had crushed her legs.

Slipstream gave a low whistle. “ _Well_. That’s not good at all, is it?”

Ana looked up, her eye struggling a bit to focus. “I’m quite aware.” Her face hardened as she attempted to push herself into a sitting position despite the pain. “You’ve done your work. Let an old woman die quietly.”

Slipstream shook her head, feeling a surprising spike of sympathy. “They didn’t care one way or the other about the Crusader, but we’re supposed to bring you in alive. Orders.”

Ana looked down at herself. “I won’t be much good to them at this rate.”

Slipstream shrugged. “Not my problem.”

Ana’s face pinched with pain as she tried to look deeper into the building. “Reinhardt…?"

Slipstream shook her head. “Gone. Sorry.”

“Don’t lie to me.” Ana looked up at her, and Slipstream found herself unable to look away from her penetrating gaze. “You had a job and you did it - you aren’t sorry at all.”

Slipstream considered that. “Maybe not. Still, he wasn’t one of the bad ones. We made it quick for him.”

Ana closed her eye, a shudder running through her. “I appreciate _that_ at least.” She looked up again. “You can’t dig me out of here fast enough to save my legs.”

Slipstream shook her head. “No. Probably not.”

“They want information. They’ll torture me. Try to break me.”

“Probably,” Slipstream admitted. “Get what they need and then end it - if you’re lucky.”

“Things happen on a battlefield,” Ana observed. “Orders or not, people die.”

Slipstream scoffed. “You planning to ghost _again?_ Even if we _wanted_ to get you out of there - you said it yourself. Not getting far without working legs, are you?”

“No,” Ana agreed. “I wouldn’t. But that isn’t what I am asking you, and we both know it.”

Slipstream stared at her, pulling up her goggles to get a good look at the woman who had been fairly important to Lena, once. A superior and a bit of a mentor, if not necessarily a friend.

To her surprise, her earpiece beeped at her - the secure side frequency she and Odile had set up almost immediately that Talon could not monitor. “She has earned a better death.”

Slipstream considered that, the nodded in answer to both of them. “I suppose so.” She drew her pistol. “I can give you clean and quick. But that’s all I can offer.”

Ana nodded, then reached up to tap her chest. “Here.”

Slipstream raised an eyebrow. “It’ll be a little slower, even if I hit the heart.”

Ana gave her that disturbingly calm look again, made even more ghoulish by the drying blood. “I want my face intact. They need - _Fareeha_ needs - to know it is real, this time. She deserves closure.”

Slipstream sucked in a breath. “Yeah...suppose I do understand that.” She took aim for the heart, her pistol steady. “Close your eyes, Gran.”

Ana was silent, staring at her as if she could see right into her soul, then closed her eye. “Thank you.”

Slipstream pulled the trigger twice.

Talon wasn’t happy about the loss of potential intelligence, but they accepted two more confirmed kills.

* * *

Fareeha had gone pale and still as Slipstream recounted the day that she had taken Ana Amari’s life, but she didn’t break down in hysterics or explode into rage. Only the slight glimmer of tears in her eyes betrayed her reaction when she explained Ana’s final request, and Slipstream could hardly blame her for that.

“I hope you aren’t expecting me to thank you,” Fareeha finally said, her voice almost a monotone.”

“No,” Slipstream shook her head. “I’m not. But...I hope you understand, at least.”

Fareeha looked down at the blotter on her desk, nostrils flaring. “Yes. I think I do understand. Or at least I understand a bit better than I did before.”

“Fair enough.” Slipstream straightened in her chair. “So. My message?”

Fareeha looked up. “I’ll contact her and pass it on. I won’t promise you anything more than that.”

Slipstream didn't offer to shake her hand, but she was satisfied that they had a deal. “That’s enough.”

Fareeha straightened, giving her a nod. “Is it encrypted? Data disks? Paper?”

Slipstream shook her head. “None of the above - but you’re welcome to write it down if you like.”

Fareeha raised an eyebrow, then took a pen and paper from her desk. “I’m listening.”

“I want her to meet me,” Slipstream explained. She kept her voice steady despite the cold grip of fear on her spine, her hands carefully locked around each other instead of gripping the armrests of the chair. “Annecy, France, one week from today. The house in the lake - she’ll understand what that means. I won’t be armed, and she is welcome to bring anyone she likes - except Song.”

Fareeha raised an eyebrow. “I’m not exactly surprised, but I do have to ask why.”

Slipstream gave a pained grunt. “Because a condition of Sombra’s assistance is that I took Song’s name off my list, and I want to make sure I keep my word.”

Fareeha paused. “That wasn’t exactly what I meant.”

“It’s the answer you’re getting,” Slipstream said flatly.

Fareeha stared for a moment, then nodded. “Fine. Anything else to pass along?”

“I’ll have Hanzo Shimada and Satya Vaswani there as well. Unharmed and willing to submit to complete examinations. I can’t promise they’ll leave with her, but I’ll give them the option.”

That made Fareeha raise an eyebrow again, and it really was unnerving how much of her mother Slipstream could see in her face. “That’s interesting. I’ll make sure she knows.”

Slipstream nodded. “Good enough. Care to walk me out?”

“One question before you go.” Fareeha sat back in her chair. “Your ‘company’. A legit organization?”

Slipstream shrugged. “Legit as anyone who does our kind of work can be.” She gave a weak grin, trying for cocky and crooked and knowing she didn’t really hit the mark. “You hiring out, luv?”

Fareeha gave her another of those searching looks. “Let’s just say I may consider all my options, should the need arise.”


	10. Indulgences and Compromises

Slipstream let out a long sigh as she settled into the back of the black livery car that she’d hired to take her from the Helix compound back to the city. All things considered, that hadn’t been fun, but it had gone better than she’d expected.

“Tired, _a leanbh?_ You’re usually full of such energy.”

Slipstream’s eyes hardened behind the lenses of her glasses as she stared daggers at the woman who had been waiting in the car. “I may not know who my biological parents were, but that doesn’t mean I’m your kid.”

Moira O’Deorain shrugged, her usual flamboyant combat dress replaced with a dark grey suit and crisp dress shirt, a golden pin with the logo of Oasis’ genetics ministry on her lapel. “I assisted in the process that created your dear swan, originally. Then my work was adapted to help create you as well. Should I not see you as the daughters of my mind, if not my body?”

Slipstream watched the geneticist’s hands move as she spoke, relaxing slightly as she realized Moira was not wearing the wristlets and claws that were normally required for her biotic manipulations.

“So, _mum_ , is this you hopping a ride in my cab to save a few quid? A social call?”

“Hmm.” Moira smiled dryly, her smile as thin and sharp as one of her scalpels. “Call it...indulging my curiosity.” She gestured to the hired car’s minibar. “Feel free to enjoy a drink on me.”

Slipstream shook her head. “I’m fine, thanks.” She tried to keep herself calm as she put her hands in her lap, one leg crossed over the other. “Doomfist know you’re ‘indulging’ yourself?”

Moira chuckled as she took a glass from the bar and poured herself a whiskey neat. “Akande wanted me to intercept you. I informed him that I had quite a bit of _real_ work to be done.” She took a sip of her drink, savoring the spirit. “Himself wants both of you back in harness.”

Slipstream scowled. “He’s got a funny way of showing it.”

“He tends to think of the mailed fist before the velvet glove.” Moira ran a fingertip along the top of her glass. “I often find that _subtler_ methods are rather more rewarding. There’s nothing _requiring_ you to work for him should you return to the fold.” She tilted her head slightly. “In fact, with Gabriel’s...departure...one might argue there is an opening to allow you to stand as a peer.”

“Pass,” Slipstream said flatly. “Maybe... _maybe_ before all this began, we might have considered it. But now?”

“A pity,” Moira said without an ounce of regret, then tipped the last of her whiskey back. “I suppose I shall just have to report back that I was unable to reach you before you departed.” Her mismatched eyes narrowed. “I _trust_ you will not make a liar of me.”

Slipstream nodded. “I’ll be gone by tomorrow morning - as will my guests.”

“So nice to work with a _professional_ ,” Moira purred. “I do hope that even if Talon is no longer on your client list, you’ll still take _my_ calls?”

“We _are_ neighbors,” Slipstream smiled thinly. “I think that as long as you honor our previous arrangement, you’ll find you can still ring through.”

“Quite reasonable,” Moira agreed, and Slipstream wasn’t surprised to find they’d reached her apartment building. “Have a lovely afternoon, dear.”

“Cheers,” Slipstream saluted her ‘hostess’, slipped out of the car as soon as the door was opened, and made sure not to shudder until the limousine was well out of sight.

* * *

Sombra grinned as she left the barbershop with Satya and Hanzo, the latter gently rubbing at his freshly shaved undercut.  “You look _badass_ now! I don’t usually go for guys, like, twice my age, but…”

Hanzo glared. “That is _quite_ enough.”

“OK,” Sombra smirked. “It really is a good look for you, though.”

Satya coughed lightly. “Your bow is ready to be picked up, and I received a message from Slipstream while you were sitting for your appointments.”

Sombra turned. “Yeah? What’s going on?”

Satya frowned as she examined her phone. “She says she ran into her ‘evil fairy godmother’ and we need to leave as soon as ‘you lot are done shopping.’”

Hanzo grunted as they walked to the tram stop. “Will we meet her at the apartment, or the airport?”

Sombra had gone quiet as she considered a few things. “We need to meet her away from both of them to make sure none of us are getting tailed. I’ll call her.”

Hanzo’s eyes narrowed, his hand drifting to his waist. “Are we compromised?”

“I don’t think so,” Sombra said quickly, “but I don’t think we should take any chances.”

Sombra had been tense from the moment Slipstream had made it clear that Moira had taken an interest in their little party. She didn’t really relax until they’d made sure Slipstream’s jet hadn’t been entered or tampered with, letting out a long sigh of relief when they’d cleared Oasis airspace for the flight to France.

Satya noticed her reactions. “Why is this ‘fairy godmother’ so frightening?”

Sombra swallowed. “Think of the worst things Talon did. Layer some of Blackwatch’s dirtiest secrets on top - _including_ creating Widowmaker to kill Gérard Lacroix and remaking Genji Shimada...and she had a hand in all of them.”

Hanzo didn’t make a sound, but they could both tell he’d straightened slightly in his seat at his brother’s name.

“She sounds...formidable.”

“She’s brilliant,” Sombra said quietly, “and she _terrifies_ me. Always has. Even before I found out what she did to Gabe…” She shuddered, and tried not to think about the story Gabriel had told her one night not long after she’d figured out his identity.

Satya raised an eyebrow at that, but Sombra shook her head and turned to look out the window.

_For once, that’s not my story to tell._

* * *

“The house _in_ the lake?” Angela sounded even more exhausted than she looked, and Fareeha couldn’t help but feel a little guilty as she considered the time difference. This was important, but it had to be...four in the morning for her? Three? Something like that. “She said it exactly like that?”

“Yes,” Fareeha confirmed. “I thought it was strange, but I’m certain it’s what she meant.”

Hana gave a thoughtful hum. “It sounds like she expects that to mean something to you, Doc. Does it?”

“Yes,” Angela said slowly. “Now that you put it that way, I think it does. I’m fairly sure where Slipstream wants me to be.”

Fareeha tapped a pen against her desk. “You’re going, then?”

“I think I have to,” Angela said firmly. “For Hanzo and Satya if nothing else.”

Fareeha had expected Hana to object, but instead she had a resigned acceptance. “I’m not arguing with that, but this still feels like a trap.”

Angela shook her head. “Elaborate schemes have never been Slipstream’s stock in trade - and they weren’t Lena’s either. She wants to meet with me - I presume to ask for my help with something - and she’s gone to great lengths to arrange it. I’m quite certain she’s sincere.”

Hana’s face had darkened at the mention of Lena’s name. “Using anything Lena did as a basis for dealing with Slipstream is a mistake.”

“Point taken,” Angela said primly, “but it is still my mistake to make.”

Fareeha decided it would be a good time to step in. “Who do you plan to take with you, Angela?”

Hana blinked in surprise, her anger draining away at the sudden change in subject.. “I figured that you’d want to be there for this.”

“I wish I could,” Fareeha agreed, “but there’s too much here for me to drop it and go.”

“Apparently _I’m_ out,” Hana said a bit petulantly, “and I don’t have a good way to reach Gabriel or Jack.”

Angela started shaking her head before Hana had finished speaking. “Gabriel would likely be just as poor of a choice. I had considered Winston…”

“Don’t.” Hana caught the way Fareeha had flinched at her tone, and tried to soften her explanation. “Having to help them once was bad enough for him. Don’t put him through it again.”

“If we’re trying to avoid antagonizing either side, that doesn’t leave me with a very long list,” Angela mused.

“No,” Fareeha agreed. “But I can think of one who might work…”


	11. Thieves, Liars, and Guests

For as long as she could remember, Sombra had hated mornings.

Which made the fact that the demands of living off the grid had forced her to become an early riser all the more insulting, really.

She didn’t have to mend tears in the camouflage netting, feed the animals, realign solar panels, or check the water levels in the cistern for her irrigation system here, but her body didn’t care. She’d spent years rising with the sun now, and it had become as ingrained a habit as breathing.

_Still_ , she thought as she walked out onto the patio that overlooked Lac d’Annecy, _at least_ _the view is pretty good_.

The sun was just rising over the hilltops, the rooftops and steeples of the old city still wrapped in shadows even as the waters of the lake rippled with all the shades of the dawn.

She watched as the sky lightened until the sound of a foot scraping on stone made Sombra realize that apparently Hanzo Shimada was an early riser, too.

He was shirtless, wearing workout pants and tightly laced sandals, having apparently decided to go out for a jog around the chateau grounds judging by the light sheen of sweat over his skin.

_That_ view was pretty good too, Sombra had to admit. She’d mostly been joking around with Hanzo after he’d gotten his makeover, but _damn_. If he’d flirted back instead of shutting her down, she had a feeling they would have had a lot of fun.

She watched as he climbed the support pillar from the boat dock up to the courtyard, then waved once he’d come close enough to spot her. “ _Hola.”_

Hanzo jogged over, giving her a nod. “Good morning.”

Sombra nodded back, then gestured to a set of lounge chairs overlooking the water. “Couldn’t sleep?”

Hanzo followed, but where Sombra sprawled out, he sat almost painfully straight, his eyes scanning the skies. “They will be here soon. I felt it was best to be ready.”

“Fair enough. They’re probably going to be picking up a boat in the city, though. Having someone airdrop them in would attract all the wrong kinds of attention - and Ziegler’s not stupid.”

“No,” Hanzo admitted gruffly, “she is not.” His lips turned up in what was almost a smile. “Yet you are here as well.”

Sombra snorted. “You trying to ask if _I’m_ nervous?”

Hanzo raised an eyebrow. “Call me...curious.”

“Not about this,” Sombra finally answered. “Like you said - Ziegler’s not stupid...and whoever she brings in will know to be on good behavior.”

“You think it will work, then?” Hanzo tilted his head slightly. “From what we were told, I expect there to be a certain amount of...risk.”

“Like I said,” Sombra smiled, “Ziegler isn’t stupid. She’ll make it work.” Her smile faded as she looked out onto the water. “What worries me isn’t today. It’s after.”

Hanzo grunted softly. “She will want vengeance. One might argue she earned the right to it.”

“And if she goes off half cocked? She’ll get herself killed - or worse.” Sombra pushed herself up and out of the lounger. “If she tries to do this alone - even if the two of them are able to do it _together_ ...we already _know_ that it won’t be enough.”

“Perhaps,” Hanzo agreed. “ _If_ she were to act alone.”

Sombra turned back to him. “Thinking you might tag along?”

Hanzo’s smile turned a bit sly. “I might ask you the same.”

Sombra shrugged. “She hired me. I’ve got a job to do.”

“I was under the impression your job was finished once you found Doctor Ziegler.” Hanzo stood and walked to the railing. “From what I understand, you are not in the habit of granting ‘freebies.’”

“Technically, I _didn’t_ find Ziegler,” Sombra pointed out piously. “I guess that means I still owe her one...and I’m pretty sure I know who she’ll want me to track down.”

Hanzo laughed softly. “That sounds more like a justification than the truth.”

“Yeah?” Sombra put her hands on the stone balustrade. “So tell me the truth, dragon boy.”

“Slipstream is a killer,” Hanzo stepped to the balustrade as well, but Sombra knew he was looking at her, not the water. “It is what she was trained to be - _made_ to be. But there is honor in embracing one’s purpose - and in seeking to transcend it.”

“Huh.” Sombra turned to face him properly, meeting his eyes. “So what does that make me?”

“ _You_ ,” Hanzo said sternly, “are a thief, and a liar.” Before she could say more, he laughed, and turned back to look at the water. “But I was raised in a family of thieves, killers, and liars. So perhaps both of you could also be more.”

* * *

In the privacy of her own mind, Satya had to admit that Slipstream had taken her by surprise once again.

Based on her experiences with Tracer, Satya would have expected Slipstream to have difficulty waiting. After all, Lena had always been a woman in constant motion, often rocking on her heels or tapping her fingers even when she was allegedly standing still.

Slipstream, from what she had seen, was different, but still possessed a certain energy to her movements. Restrained, often but always ready to be unleashed. As such, had she been asked, Satya would have expected to find Slipstream pacing the dock - or, given her nature, perhaps it would be better to describe it as stalking back and forth. Instead, when Satya stepped out onto the Chateau’s courtyard she found Slipstream standing at the dock’s rail with an almost perfect stillness, only the slight rise and fall of her shoulders giving any sign that she was breathing.

Satya observed her hostess for several minutes until she caught sight of a dark shape moving across the waters of the lake, and made the decision to join her down on the dock.

At first it did not seem Slipstream had noticed her approach, but as Satya came to the rail, Slipstream turned her head just slightly, looking at her out of the corner of her eye while still keeping the approaching boat in her vision.

“You can wait inside if you’d rather.”

Satya shook her head. “You are trying to establish that you can be trusted. Meeting them with you will be a show of good faith.”

Slipstream grunted softly. “Suppose you’ve got a point.”

“I _am_ out of practice,” Satya admitted, “but I am familiar enough with the process of a negotiation from my time as part of Vishkar. _How_ your proposal is presented is often as important - or more - than the actual content.”

That got a bitter chuckle from Slipstream. “Yeah, it’s not so different in this line of work, really...but I’m not that good at being the friendly and reasonable one.”

Satya raised an eyebrow. “I take it that was often handled by your...counterpart?”

“Oh, no,” Slipstream grinned. “She’d rather sit there and intimidate them, most of the time...I was the one talking - I just wasn’t _nice._ ”

“Hm.” Satya’s lips quirked in a smile. “For what it is worth...I have found you surprisingly friendly and reasonable. Perhaps you simply did not have enough practice at the time.”

Slipstream looked back out to the water. The boat was close enough now for her to make out a distinct head of blonde hair. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that, luv.”

Satya considered how to respond to that for a moment, then took something of a calculated risk by reaching out to put her hand on Slipstream’s shoulder. “Then perhaps that is another reason why I am here - so you do not have to do this alone.”

Slipstream closed her eyes and let out a long sigh. “I...yeah. Thanks, Satya.”

“You are welcome.” Satya withdrew her hand as the boat came up, Angela at the wheel while a man in a very distinctive outfit sat next to her in the passenger seat. “Now - shall we greet our guests?”

Slipstream nodded and walked to the side of the dock, waiting for Angela to shut the engine off before she tossed a rope over so the doctor could secure the boat while Satya waited by the stairs that would lead back to the house.

Once the boat had been tied off, Slipstream took a few steps back and opened her hands, the plain white t-shirt and black tights she wore making it clear she was not carrying any weapons. “Hullo, doctor. Thanks for the housecall.”

Satya frowned slightly at the forced cheer in Slipstream’s voice and made the decision to step in, walking past her and extending her organic hand to Angela to help her out of the boat. “Angela. Jesse. It is very good to see you both again.”

Angela’s smile was cautious, but Satya thought she seemed genuinely pleased to see her. “Satya. It’s a relief to see you again.” As she stepped into the dock, she gave Slipstream a much cooler nod, the smile fading away. “Good morning.”

Slipstream nodded to her, then turned her focus to her other guest as his boots clunked against the wood of the dock. “McCree.”

Jesse’s eyes narrowed, but he didn’t make any other obvious show of hostility, his voice carefully even beneath his drawl. “Slipstream.”

“Been a while.” Slipstream’s mouth was curled up into something that was almost a smile. “How’s the knee?”

“Fine,” Jesse replied flatly. “How’s the thumb?”

“Fine,” Slipstream answered with in an equally flat tone.

Satya cleared her throat in an attempt to break the growing tension before it could become a stalemate - or something worse. “Perhaps it would be best to continue this discussion inside?”

Slipstream turned to give her a grateful look and a slight nod before she gestured towards the house. “Right, thanks. Come on in, then...”


	12. Ties of Blood and Water

Angela looked around as Slipstream lead them up from the dock and into the great stone house, noting the signs of fairly extensive renovations as they walked into the main hall.

“I have to admit I was surprised at where you asked to meet. It’s been a very long time since Amélie told me about this place.”

Slipstream turned enough to smile at her, a surprisingly genuine amusement in her eyes. “Funny how it goes, really. We talked about buying a condo on an island after we left Talon. Turned out we already had one!” She reached out to lightly touch one of the walls that had been painted in a pleasant shade of blue. “Needed a bit of work, of course.”

Jesse had a bit more of his usual drawl in his voice than the hard flat tone he’d originally addressed Slipstream with. “Thought Odette couldn’t remember much of Amélie’s life. Just bits an’ pieces. Surprised she’d dig up her old ancestral home.”

Slipstream’s shoulders tightened and her back stiffened. “She _isn’t_ Odette,” Slipstream snapped back, “and she’s not Amélie either, thanks.” She walked a little further into the hall and then slumped a bit, visibly trying to control her anger. “...anyway, she didn’t.”

“Didn’t what?” Angela asked, trying to draw Slipstream back into the conversation.

“Odile didn’t remember this place,” Slipstream said softly. “She was looking at some of her old Talon files. Found Amélie’s birth name, decided to do some research into the family and it lead here. Once we knew the chateau was in receivership…” She shrugged. “Wasn’t a very hard call.”

Angela hummed thoughtfully. “Does she consider herself part of the Guillard family, then?” She was probing, but genuinely curious how Slipstream would react to the question.

She had expected Slipstream to tense or snap again, but she simply shrugged as she opened the door to what looked like a drawing room or library, with a set of couches in the middle and two figures silhouetted against the windows as they waited for them. “She’s at least got blood ties to the Guillards. Odile didn’t marry Gérard, poor bastard, and she didn’t have much interest in pretending otherwise.”

Angela felt a little surge of anger and fought to keep her voice level. “I believe Odette kept the surname out of respect for her...progenitor. To honor her, and Gérard.”

“Tell me again how that worked out for Odette,” Slipstream said quietly, then shook her head. “Anyway. We’re here now - and we need to talk. Go on in. Please.”

Angela recognized Sombra immediately when she entered the room, the hacker dressed casually and leaning against a bookcase, but for a moment she couldn’t place the man standing with his back to them at the window.

It was only when he turned so she could see his profile that Angela realized the man with a short ponytail and dramatically styled undercut was _Hanzo_ , and even then she needed a moment to parse the piercings in his ears and nose.

Before she could speak, though, Jesse let out a low whistle.

“Well god _damn_. They say being locked up can change a man, but only you could make it look _good_.”

Hanzo let out a soft huff of a laugh and shook his head as he walked to the center of the room, Sombra following a few steps behind. “It is good to see you too, McCree.”

Satya coughed politely as they settled on the couches, Angela and Jesse facing her and Hanzo on the couch, while Sombra lounged in an armchair and Slipstream stood between them all, visibly struggling to find a way to begin.

“Perhaps it would be best,” Satya suggested, “if Angela and Jesse could speak with us privately - to prove we have not been conditioned or coerced.”

Angela considered that, then shook her head as she stood up. “You are welcome to speak with Jesse, but I think it would be best if Slipstream and I spoke privately.” She turned to make eye contact with Slipstream. “You went to a great deal of effort to speak with me. I would like to know why.”

_And,_ she thought to herself, _I suspect I will have a patient to see._

* * *

Sombra shut the door to the library as Slipstream lead Ziegler out, and she wasn’t surprised that Jesse was opening his mouth almost as soon as he heard the latch.

“Now, seeing as Slipstream sprung them out of prison, I can just about see why Hanzo and Satya are working with her...but I’m kinda confused why you’re helping her after what she did to Reyes.”

Sombra let out a little sigh as she walked back to her chair. “At first I was doing it because it was better to help her and get what I wanted out of it - and to keep me off Talon’s radar.”

Jesse considered that and raised an eyebrow beneath his hat. “And now?”

Sombra looked over to where Satya and Hanzo were watching her, and sighed. “She’s...different.” She put up a hand to keep Jesse from talking. “She’s _not_ Lena, ok? She’s not Lena and she’s not Tracer. But when Talon isn’t zapping her brain or dumping her back into...wherever she goes when they cut off her anchor…” Sombra shook her head. “I can’t forget what she did to Gabi, or the other people she and Odile have hurt. But she’s trying to be something else. She’s not Talon’s puppet anymore...and maybe if I’d done a little more back then instead of just looking after myself, things could have gone differently.”

Hanzo gave her a look of knowing sympathy. “You cannot change the past. Believe me - I speak from great experience. But the future is another matter.”

Jesse looked over. “That so?” His eyes narrowed. “What sort of future do you think you’re trying to change, Han?”

Satya answered before the archer could. “A future with at least two unnecessary deaths - and with Talon able to grow even further unchecked.”

“Seems to me we’ve been doing something about that last part,” Jesse noted, “in our own ways.”

“It is not the same,” Hanzo countered. “I have been looking into the news. Helix and most militaries are consumed with containment and attempting to keep war from spreading further. You, and some of the other remnants of Overwatch may be taking steps where you can, but Talon continues to manipulate events behind the scenes.”

“An’ you’re fixing to change that with...what?” Jesse raised an eyebrow. “Black ops? Dirty tricks? You think we haven’t _tried?”_

“You have limited yourselves,” Satya said softly. “Certain missions - certain tactics that either require numbers you can no longer muster or moral lines that some were unwilling to cross. Slipstream has no such restrictions.”

“You’re talkin’ about serious wet work, then.” Jesse’s eyes flashed with something dangerous. “Exactly how is that going to fix things? Eye for an eye?”

“It won’t fix everything,” Sombra answered. “Not even close. But if things work out with Mercy, they’re going after this target anyway. If we help them, they’re going to have a much better chance to come back alive...and once that’s done, maybe it’s a chance to keep going. They may not be your  _friends_ , but they’ve got a reason not to be your enemies. It’s a start.”

“You cannot stop a flood,” Hanzo agreed, “but you _may_ be able to channel it. Better to be moving with them than against.”

Jesse gave Hanzo a long look, then turned to Satya. “Genji’s been missin’ you both something terrible.”

“And I have missed him,” Satya stood. “But I still feel this is the right decision, even if it keeps us apart for a greater time.”

“Shit.” Jesse looked over to Hanzo. “You’re certain this will make a difference?”

“I would not be supporting this,” he assured him, “if I did not.”

* * *

The last place Angela had expected Slipstream to lead her when they’d gone upstairs was a bedroom.

It didn’t seem to be the master, but it was still nicely appointed and had a pleasant view of the lake beyond.

The bed should have been in the center of the room, but it had been pushed to the far wall and in its place was what Angela realized after a moment was a cryostasis chamber - very similar to the ones Overwatch had used in the Ecopoints and the portable units placed on transports equipped for medevac duty.

“Is this…?” She stepped closer and gently wiped away the rime of frost over the glass to reveal Odile’s face, eyes closed but her mouth pinched as if she’d been in great pain when the chamber was activated. Her fingers flew to the control panel, and Angela gasped at the report as she pulled up the occupant’s lifesigns. “Severe spinal trauma...contusions...fractured ribs...nerve damage...blood loss... “ She had started to suspect that Odile needed medical attention of some kind, but nothing like _this_. “What _happened?”_

“Doomfist,” Slipstream said softly, pain seeping into her voice as her shoulders fell.

“Doomfist happened.”


	13. Choices Already Made

Slipstream didn’t like London all that much.

Great food, sure. More than a few business opportunities, of course. But it was also cramped and dirty, marred by the constant tension between human supremacists and the omnic underground’s more militant types dancing around each other just beneath the surface.

The whole city felt like a powder keg at times, and unless she was being paid damn well for it, Slipstream had no interest in being around when someone finally struck a match.

And then there were the memories.

Flashes of a life she hadn’t lived, from a person she hadn’t been. Smells and streets and sights and tastes that brought snippets and snatches with them. Some interesting, a few rare ones important, but mostly they just served to give Slipstream a headache and leave her irritable.

Still, a job was a job.

“Coming up on the target,” Slipstream reported as she approached a block of office buildings. “How are things looking?”

“Quiet,” Odile murmured from her position several blocks away. “Minimal movement. Custodial staff, mostly. Target is still in his office.”

She gave a dry chuckle as she did one last walk around the block to case things out, noting the position of a few private security types and a Metropolitan police patrol passing through. “Got to love someone dedicated to their work.”

_One nice thing about a city this old - plenty of alleyways and narrows, no matter how much they rebuild._ Slipstream used an alley to double back, then located one of the office’s fire exits.

The target was one of the main publisher and editors for the _Morning Observer_. Given the _MO_ ’s tendency to publish some of the more inflammatory anti-Omnic rhetoric Slipstream had a feeling it was probably a job financed through the Underground, but the ‘client’ had done a good job of covering their tracks. Not their favorite way to work, honestly, but the client had delivered payment as specified and given plenty of data for the job.

Like the passcode for the fire door, for example.

Slipstream smiled as the door swung open smoothly for her, carefully slipping inside and shutting it before anything would show on the main security panel. “Right. I’m in.”

“Stairwell is clear - go quickly.”

Slipstream smirked as she pulled her goggles out and opened her jacket to expose the accelerator beneath. “Like I know any other way.”

“Mmmm…” Odile’s throaty murmur made a shiver run straight through her. “I rather like when you take your time, _ma coeur_...but business before pleasure.”

“Gonna look forward to holding you to that,” Slipstream murmured back, then pulled herself up the stairway, bending time around herself as she sped upwards faster than eyes or cameras could follow until she’d reached the ninth floor.

“Four doors down - I do not see any other heat signatures.” Odile’s voice was quick and clipped, tense with anticipation and urgency, and Slipstream let it carry into her own movements. The client had specified removing him at close range - otherwise even his interior office wouldn’t have saved him from a perfectly aimed shot - but it just meant she got a bit of exercise.

One, two, three, _fourth_ door and Slipstream turned the door handle, pushing it open as she blinked herself inside, pistols drawn.

Their mark was at his desk, appearing to be working...except for his eyes staring blankly out at the monitor, and the drool streaming down his chin.

“What…?” Slipstream stepped closer, but the target didn’t even blink. “Swan, did anything indicate this guy had a drug habit?”

“Nothing - what are you seeing?”

“He’s been whacked up on _something_. Totally gone.” She frowned. “This job just went from odd to garbage. How fast can you get in position to evacuate?”

“I’m already moving,” Odile responded a bit breathlessly as she ran. “Give me two minutes.”

“Right.” Slipstream didn’t bother closing up the office. Running for the end of the corridor she raised one of her pistols and put a single shot into the ceiling, the heat from the pulse round immediately setting off the sprinkler system, while the fire alarm automatically disengaged all of the stairwell door locks.

Fifteen seconds later she was kicking open the roof access door, scanning the horizon for signs of Odile’s approach, when a voice from the shadows made her blood run cold.

“I always have admired your instincts.” Akande Ogundimu’s voice was deep and rich as crushed velvet, but there was more than a hint of steel beneath it. “The use of the alarm system to aid your escape was an excellent move.”

Slipstream turned, slowly, resisting the urge to start shooting. “Guess I know who our client is, then. You’re looking well.”

Akande gave a polite laugh, muscles rippling beneath the tight black top he wore to ward off the chill of the London night, the crimson plating of his namesake weapon and the cybernetic armor that encased most of his side glinting in the rooftop lighting. “The best way to speak with a mercenary _is_ to hire them, after all.”

Slipstream’s eyes narrowed. “That drug you whacked the mark with - lethal, or just sedative?”

“Lethal - eventually. A violent death would have served my purposes just as well - inciting more unrest that could be directed at the omnic communities here, but being able to install a more...tractable editor after an apparently natural death has equal value.” Akande smiled thinly. “I wondered if you would take the shot once you realized that he was incapacitated. You aren’t known for your restraint.”

“I’m not in the habit of getting caught in traps either,” Slipstream countered coolly. Three rapid clicks sounded in her ear. Odile was ready to get them out, and none too soon. “But you wanted to talk to us? Talk. We’re both listening.”

Akande’s eyes narrowed. “Very well. I’ve come to inform you that this...dalliance of yours has gone far enough. Talon created you both. It is time for you to return and serve a higher purpose.”

Slipstream shook her head. “Figured it was something like that. Sorry, but we’re done. Thought you’d have noticed the way we gave notice.”

“You do not _give notice_ to leave Talon like some kind of secretarial pool!” Akande moved forward, his voice dipping into a bit of a growl. “Your rebellion was tolerated because the war continued to move forward, but the world has reached a tipping point. With your talents, Talon can strike a new balance - one that will keep Humanity moving forward as it was _meant_ to be.”

“Sure,” Slipstream rolled her eyes. “Heard that before. With or without kill switches in our spines?”

“That _was_ inelegant,” Akande admitted. “But I can give you greater incentive. An opportunity to help shape our course - and reap far greater rewards than _money_.”

Slipstream clicked her tongue against her teeth as quietly as she could - once, twice, three times. “You think it’s just about money for us?” She shook her head. “Don’t get me wrong - money’s nice! I love money! Much easier to live with it than without. But that’s a fringe benefit.”

Akande scoffed. “Surely you don’t consider yourselves heroes?”

Slipstream caught a flash of motion out of the corner of her eye. “Don’t be stupid,” she replied as she met Akande’s scorn with her own. “We consider ourselves _free._ ”

She blurred into motion, flinging herself into space and appearing in midair just as Odile reached the apex of her own leap, wrapping her arms around her partner as Odile fired her grapple to yank them back towards the escape car they’d stashed near the Gardens.

Slipstream had been about to thank her for the rescue when there was a sound like a powerful turbine engine combined with a roar of anger as Doomfist launched himself into the air to pursue them.

The shockwave of force from the gauntlet swung them crazily through the air, shearing the already stressed grappling cable and sending them into freefall.

Slipstream was able to cancel most of her momentum as she tumbled onto a rooftop, but her heart was seized with fear when she realized she hadn’t heard Odile land.

The answer to that mystery came when Akande landed with a thunderous crash a few feet away with Odile clutched in his massive gauntlet, dangling like a ragdoll from his grip.

“Free?” Akande spat the word back in their faces like a curse. “Pathetic. You are as free as we _allow_ you to be. Now - stop this foolishness and stand down, Slipstream...or I will make sure your ‘partner’ suffers the consequences.”

Slipstream’s eyes were focused on Odile. Her chest was still rising and falling - barely - but her body was still quite limp, and she could see ugly bruising where her combat suit had been ripped by the gauntlet’s jagged edges. “Do as I’m told or you hurt her?” She glared her fury at Akande as she struggled to her feet. “Thought you considered that an ‘inelegant’ solution.”

“That does not mean it was _ineffective_.” Energy crackled along the surface of the gauntlet as he raised Odile’s body above his head. “There is no shame in yielding to a superior opponent...but I tire of your posturing.”

Slipstream considered it for a long moment. She remembered the sound of the accelerator being twisted and shattering under that gauntlet. One of the few times Lena’s fear had been _completely understandable_ as she’d been shattered through the slipstream again at his hands, all those years ago.

She thought of what Talon would likely do to make sure they wouldn’t become disobedient again.

She thought of Odile.

It had never really been a choice at all.

Slipstream holstered her pistols, and lifted her goggles to her forehead to make sure he could see her eyes. “Fuck you, Akande - and fuck Talon too.”

Akande flung Odile down to the concrete with enough force to crater it, then stomped hard on her back, just above the faded scar from removing her failsafe implant.

Odile let out a ragged scream of pain as the trauma brought her back to consciousness, and Slipstream used the momentary distraction to toss one of her pulse bombs onto the concrete behind Akande.

As he leapt to get clear of the blast, Slipstream darted forward to grab Odile and did the only thing she could: She ran.

* * *

“We picked up the chamber while we were still with Talon,” Slipstream explained to Angela as she finished recounting what had happened. “Well. On the way _out_ , really. We always figured it was insurance - if something went completely balls-up on a retrieval op, put them in cryo and get them to a doctor who could patch them up, then deliver to the client.” She shook her head with a bitter laugh. “Using it on her was just desperation.”

“You did good prep,” Angela observed quietly as she finished reviewing the chamber’s diagnostics. “Given the amount of trauma she suffered. I’d say your ‘desperation’ has likely saved her life.”

“I need to know…” Slipstream swallowed as she looked at Odile’s resting form in the chamber. “I need to know if you can help her. Fix her.” Her eyes came back up and Angela could see the fear she’d been trying so hard to hide. “But I need your word you’re fixing the damage _he_ did and not touching her mind. Not trying to _change_ us. Not _again_.”

“I can do my best...but I don’t work miracles. This will need recovery. Even with nanobiotic treatment, the damage to her spine is going to require delicate work.” Angela took a breath, and reached out to offer Slipstream her hand. “But I swear I will not be doing anything beyond what you have asked.”

Slipstream looked down at the offered hand for a moment, then shook it. “There’s only three or four people in the world who can treat her. Treat _us_ , for that matter...and you’re the only one I’m absolutely certain isn’t connected to Talon.” Slipstream’s hand fell to rest on the chamber, gazing into Odile’s sleeping face. “I’ll take our chances with you.”  


	14. Uncertain Awakening

She had been sleeping, but she did not dream.

She was not sure how long she had been unconscious, but as she slowly woke, her first thought was that she thought she would be in much more pain.

Her second was confusion over having that first thought. Had she been hurt? How? What had happened?

Who _was_ she? Names, so many names spun through her head, and none of them felt quite right, but neither did they feel _wrong_.

She heard voices, somewhere close by. Murmurs, not quite distinct enough to make out words. Both familiar, one achingly so.

_I_ _know_ _you…_

She heard someone moan, their voice hoarse and ragged from disuse, and she realized suddenly it was her own.

Her eyelids felt thick and gummy, but she finally managed to pry them open, and tried to look around to see where she was.  
  
It was a bedroom, she thought. White walls and blue curtains decorating tall windows. An old plaster ceiling, but a much more modern light fixture. Was this room hers? She wasn’t sure.   
  
She tried to sit up, but it was too much to demand of her body, and there seemed to be something holding her in place. Restraints?

_Am I a prisoner here?_

Somehow she didn’t think so. She knew what being a prisoner felt like, and this wasn’t it. And if she was going to be reconditioned, they would not use a room like this.

That idea sent a _frisson_ of fear through her, and a memory flashed through her mind. Fighting on a rooftop. A rifle in her hands like an extension of her own body. Men in black uniforms with skull masked helmets.

_“Friends of yours?”_

_“Not anymore.”_

The second voice she’d heard...the one she knew...familiar, yet not quite the same.

She became lost in thought, trying to bring the jagged fragments of her mind into some sort of order, when she realized someone was at her bedside, a smaller figure with short, spiky brown hair and an odd glowing device in her chest.

The spiky haired woman took her hand, squeezing it lightly, and the fear that had run through her seemed to drain away, replaced with a glow of reassurance and comfort.

“Hey, Swan.” The woman’s voice was soft and low - much gentler than most would ever hear it. “Welcome back, beautiful.”

_Swan._ Yes, that was it, wasn’t it? She was this woman’s Swan. She was her Odile, and Slipstream - _Slipstream, yes, that was her -_ was her heart. Her enchanted Prince, betrayed and reborn into something new, but _so_ beautiful.  

This was Slipstream, and she was Odile, and that context was the foundation she needed to find herself, the memories of other lives and other minds pushed into their proper places, the many pieces forming a far stronger whole.

She tried to speak, to acknowledge her, but nothing really intelligible came out, and had to settle for squeezing Slipstream’s hand as hard as she could manage.

“Don’t try to push talking,” Slipstream murmured. “You’ve been in cryo for almost three months, and went through a major surgery right after you woke up to boot. Doc said it was the best way to get in and work on you, but it means your recovery will take a little time. Same with the restraints - she had to keep you immobilized during the procedure, but now that you’re up we can start getting you more comfortable.”

She must have frowned at that, because Slipstream let go of her hand just long enough to unbuckle the restraint on her arm, then brought it to her lips, leaving a kiss on the back of her hand and then peppering her knuckles with affection.

“Missed you - missed you _so_ much…”

The desperate longing in Slipstream’s voice brought tears to her eyes, and Odile turned her hand to cup her cheek. _I am here now._

She’d just begun to wonder who ‘Doc’ was when another voice entered the conversation, making Odile whip her head around despite the discomfort from the sudden motion.

“Ah. You’re awake? Good.” Angela Ziegler approached, clipboard in hand, dressed in a set of loose scrub pants. “I can run a few tests, then.”

Odile stiffened and started to pull against the restraints, trying to force herself upright. If Ziegler had them then was she _her?_ Was Slipstream? What would the ‘angel’ do to them? _We have to run!_

“Wait, no no no no no _Odile_ , it’s ok! It’s ok!” Slipstream was on the bed in a heartbeat, pressing against her and gently turning her head to look at her. “Look at me, Swan. Look at me, gorgeous. Just breathe. Try to relax. She’s not here to hurt either of us.”

Odile’s heart was racing (or at least as much as her altered physiology allowed), and she knew she was just on the edge of panic. Slipstream took her hand again, pressing it to her anchor implant, and she tried to focus on the feeling of warm metal and the faint tingle of the energies that constantly flowed through it.

“There,” Slipstream murmured. “That’s it, yeah? Just...focus on me. Breathe, luv. Breathe. Everything’s…” Slipstream gave a wet, broken, jagged laugh. “I was gonna say ‘everything’s alright’, but you know what? Everything’s _shit_ right now. But it’s gonna get better. _You’re_ going to get better and as far as I’m concerned that’s everything enough for me.”

Odile tried to laugh again, and the tightness in her chest eased a bit. _That_ was her love, through and through.

“Sorry,” Slipstream apologized to her as she closed her eyes. “Didn’t think how that would look without any warning.” Her eyes opened again, and something beautiful and hard glittered in them. “Don’t know how much you remember, but Akande - Doomfist - he did this to you. Couldn’t trust O’Deorain. Couldn’t trust anyone with ties to Talon, even pretty old or inactive ones. Had to be Ziegler. No one else would have been good enough.”

Odile considered that for a moment. Remembered Akande’s furious roar at their defiance. Remembered a thunderous impact, and then searing pain and a horrible snapping sound before the world had gone black again. Rather than try to speak again, she nodded, then gave the doctor a questioning look.

“I am willing to discuss every procedure I performed in detail,” Ziegler’s tone was surprisingly kind, given everything she knew of the woman they called ‘Mercy’. “Slipstream was present the entire time, and you have my word that I did nothing that could have affected your personality - or hers.”

“Satya and Sombra were in the room, too.” Slipstream coughed, a bit embarrassed. “Sorry for the lack of privacy, but I figured you’d want as much reassurance as you could get.”

She closed her eyes and pressed her forehead against Slipstream’s. _Thank you_. She still wanted to know how all of those people were _involved_ , though.

Still - explanations could wait until she was out of this bed.

Ziegler cleared her throat, and Odile opened her eyes again to meet the doctor’s carefully neutral face.

“Slipstream? I am afraid I need you to get off the bed during the exam.”

Slipstream hopped back down but dragged a chair over, and Odile followed her with her eyes until the doctor gave a polite cough, and Odile turned her focus back to her.

“You suffered major insults to the nerves running through your lumbar plexus and the spinal cord, so I want to start with some very basic tests. Talking may still be a bit difficult until the last of the anesthetic wears off, but you can shake your head or nod to answer questions. Is that OK?”

Odile nodded, and the doctor smiled warmly at her.

“Good. Now - if at any point you start feeling pain or discomfort and you want me to stop, I want you to snap your fingers. Can you demonstrate that for me, please?”

Odile snapped her fingers twice, as asked, and noted the way the doctor’s eyes followed the movement.

“Excellent. I’m going to try touching your left foot. Nod if you can feel that?”

Odile did. First the doctor’s fingertips, and then being poked with a blunted rod that made her toes reflexively curl down against her foot.

“And now your right.”  
  
She nodded again.

“Very good.” Ziegler put down her clipboard and put both hands against the heel of her foot. “I’m going to push, and I want you to push back.”

That took more effort than Odile had expected, but she was finally able to keep the doctor from moving her leg.

“And now the other.”   
  
The right was easier than the left, but it still represented a challenge. Despite that, though, Ziegler seemed rather pleased as she removed the last of the straps that had been carefully holding her in place.

As if in answer to her silent question, the doctor picked up her clipboard and made a few notes there. “You’re doing better than I had expected for the initial tests. Repairing the nervous system is a very tricky process. With this strong of a start, I think we can expect a full recovery.”

Slipstream slumped in her chair, letting out a long sigh of relief. “When you said there’d been damage…” She looked over to Odile and squeezed her hand again, and this time Odile was able to squeeze back harder. “I knew you’d make it through, though. I _knew_.”

“I’m going to want to run some more comprehensive tests, of course,” Ziegler observed. “But I want to wait until the nanosurgeons still in your system have completed their work and flushed out. We’ll start you with some ice chips and a bit of water, and if that sits well with you, solid food won’t be far behind.”

Odile put a hand to her stomach. Food _did_ sound good, actually. Hopefully that was a positive sign for her recovery as well.

Ziegler seemed to make a note of that, then looked over to Slipstream. “I assume there is a kitchen somewhere in this place?”  
  
“First floor,” Slipstream confirmed. “Sombra can show you - or the others, I guess.” Her lips quirked in a little smile. “Suppose you can pick which one you trust most.”

Ziegler hummed, but didn’t seem terribly amused. “Very well, then. I’ll let you have a bit of privacy.”

Odile pulled herself over in the bed as the doctor shut the door behind her, and had barely gestured to the open spot on the bed before Slipstream had filled it, wrapping her in a tight hug.

“I have _so_ much I want to tell you,” Slipstream murmured against her neck, “but I love you is first, last, and always.”

Odile ran her fingers through her partner’s short, spiky hair, caressing down the back of her neck before gently pushing Slipstream back enough to look at her properly again.

She gently stroked the slide of Slipstream’s face, her thumb carefully brushing away her tears before Odile pulled her lover back against her. Despite the difficulty of speaking and the roughness in her voice, there was one word she was aching to say, and she finally managed it as she rubbed a slow circle into Slipstream’s back.

_“_ _ You _ _…”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you believe this is the first time in this series I've written Odile as the POV character?
> 
> Neither could I!


	15. Roads to Recovery

“Raise your left leg, please.”

Sombra watched from the side of the bedroom that had been transformed into an exam room and physical therapy suite as Odile followed Ziegler’s instructions. Pressing her back into the floor mat she was resting on, she held her leg up until it was aimed at the ceiling, her ankle bent to keep her toes pointing upwards.

Angela walked over and put her hands on Odile’s calf, and gently pushed her leg forward. “Any pain when I do this?”

“No,” Odile answered, then let out a huffing breath. “Nothing _new_ , at least. I still feel some aches in my back and legs, but they are not aggravated.”

Angela carefully helped Odile lower her leg to the floor, then nodded. “Considering everything you went through, that is not unexpected. I am afraid it will probably be days, if not weeks, before you will be completely free of discomfort, but if anything worsens or lasts much more than that, I want to know immediately.”

Odile nodded as she sat up and smoothed down the patient gown she was wearing. “Is there anything else I should be aware of?”

“Based on the results from your manual exercises and the conductivity tests, you left side is slightly weaker than your right. Nothing I’d consider drastic, but keep it in mind as you start to exercise and train.” Angela made a few notes on her tablet, then put it aside. “I’ll give you a few exercises you can perform that should help with your recovery, but I’d prefer you wait at least three more days before you begin strenuous activity.”

Sombra smirked slightly. “Might want to define strenuous, doc.”

That got a glare from Odile, but Ziegler’s long suffering sigh was worth it. “Any kind of combat training, sparring, running, or high impact workouts. Past that…” Angela gave Sombra a warning look, then cleared her throat. “In regards to physical intimacy, I would suggest you try not to push anything you do not feel ready for, and as with anything else, if it hurts, _stop_.”

Before Sombra could tease her further, Odile stood and inclined her head slightly to the doctor. “The only ‘activity’ I have planned is to dress, and go into the city for lunch.”

They watched as she left, heading for the master bedroom, and Sombra shut the door before she spoke again. “So how’s she _really_ doing?”

Angela raised an eyebrow. “Don’t you trust me, Sombra?”

“I do, actually,” Sombra admitted with a smile. “But we both know _she_ doesn’t. So I wouldn’t blame you for...editing.”

Angela considered that with a thin smile. “No, I suppose she doesn’t, though given the circumstances and Talon’s...indoctrination, I can understand why.” She flipped the tablet over in her hands and presented it, allowing Sombra to read through it. “Feel free to hack it if you like, but there’s nothing hidden. Odile’s recovery has quite honestly been remarkable - and as much as I like to put some of that down to my own skills, her determination is no small part of it.”

“So she’s ahead of the curve, then?” Sombra understood maybe a quarter of what she was reading, but she knew enough to make that out.

“Quite. A ‘normal’ spinal trauma victim wouldn’t be out of _bed_ yet, let alone walking. Even with nanosurgeons and biotic healing there’s only so much we can do - the rest has to come from the patient.”

Sombra nodded, and handed the tablet back. “Then the restrictions are making sure she doesn’t go too far?”

“Exactly,” Angela confirmed. “The possibility of reinjury or aggravation are very real, and it’s clear that _both_ of them are driven enough to push each other into going too far if they jumped into preparing for...whatever they plan to do next.”

Sombra hummed as she opened the door. “Driven? Yeah. But I don’t know if you’re giving Slipstream enough credit. She didn’t go to all this effort just to let her get hurt again.”

Angela shrugged as she walked into the hallway. “Perhaps I’m not...but as you reminded me, I don’t really know either of them.” She went quiet as the master bedroom’s door opened, and watched as a smiling Slipstream emerged in slacks and a dark turtleneck, holding the door open for Odile, who had opted for a long sleeved blue dress and her hair done up in a loose bun.

Slipstream said something they couldn’t quite hear from the other end of the hallway, but the way Odile’s generally neutral expression turned to a soft smile and the shake of her shoulders with laughter was obvious enough.

The doctor watched them go with a somewhat pained expression, waiting until they were down the stairs and on their way to the boat dock before she spoke again.

“There are moments where I see pieces of the people I used to know. Not just Lena or Odette, but Amélie, too. Knowing that they’re gone, yet...not entirely. Not quite. It makes it difficult to treat them as strangers.”

Sombra nodded as she put a sympathetic hand on Angela’s shoulder. “I get it - honestly, I do. It’s been a bit easier for me having spent so much time around Slipstream lately, but I still don’t really know Odile. Not really. But it’s pretty obvious to me that they’re good for each other, in their own way. So it’s something.”

“Yes,” Angela said softly. “I suppose it is.”

* * *

“I listened to your messages.”

Slipstream stopped, a forkful of contre-filet halfway to her lips. “Yeah?” She put her fork down on her plate and smiled a bit nervously at her partner. (Girlfriend had never described her. Lover wasn’t enough. _Wife_ , perhaps, came close, but it wasn’t everything they were to each other, either.) “I don’t even know if I meant for you to hear them. I just...needed your voice. Needed to talk to you. Like I was on my own little mission and you were keeping tabs from the house, or waiting for me to come back.”

Odile’s eyes met hers, and cool white fingers gently wrapped around her own. “I think I was, in a way. Carried with you, no matter what. But I am glad to have them. To hear your determination. To know how much you did to help me.” Odile took their hands and brought them to her lips, brushing a kiss over her knuckles. “I am proud of you. I do not know if I would have had the strength.”

Slipstream could feel the blush rising on her cheeks as she ducked her head. “Of course you would have. You already did - finding Winston, getting me home? Wasn’t so different, was it?”

“I didn’t have you, _ma coeur_ , but…” Odile shrugged. “I had your...other. You were _alone_ …” Her lips turned up in a little grin and it made Slipstream’s heart skip. “But you seem to have made quite a few friends.”

“Wasn’t _trying_ ,” Slipstream admitted with a bit of exasperation. “Honestly, I’m not even sure how some of that happened. Sombra, I sort of understand. It’s what she _does_. Satya...I think she’s just glad I treat her like a _person_ after the way Vishkar stuffed her in that cell.” Slipstream shuddered, and looked down at her plate again. “Have I mentioned I really hate jails, now?”

Odile’s hand squeezed a little tighter, and Slipstream felt the spike of fear and bitterness she felt at the idea of being back in a cell fade as she squeezed back.

_She’s here._

_We’re together._

_I’m safe._

“Been thinking about something.” Slipstream looked back up as she changed the subject, her lips quirking in a smile. “Something Sombra and I talked about, actually.”

“Oh?” Odile leaned forward, taking her hand back so she could rest her chin in her upturned palm.

“Names,” Slipstream explained. “She kept bugging me about one. Asking why I still used my ‘designation’ instead of picking one out.”

Odile raised an eyebrow. “Do you want one?”

“I told her I didn’t really care. That all that mattered to me was what _you_ called me…” Slipstream pushed herself up out of her chair enough to lean across the table for a quick kiss. “Which is still true. But...I don’t know. I’ve been thinking about it more. Thinking about...y’know. _Them._ ” She gestured in the general direction of the Chateau. “Might make it easier to connect. I get the point that Slipstream is... _me_ , but it’s still tied to _her_ in their minds. Maybe another layer of separation might make a difference.”

She shrugged as she picked up her fork and finally took a bite of the meat, chewing and swallowing to give herself a moment. “It’s an idea, I suppose.”

Odile hummed as she considered that, closing her eyes and turning the thought over. “I will admit that I enjoy being ‘Odile Guillard’, and not just ‘Odile’. To feel a weight behind it. For it to be more than a codename or a cover.” Her eyes opened, and when she reached to stroke her cheek, Slipstream turned her face into the caress like a cat, kissing the base of her palm.

“I love _you_ ,” Odile murmured, “and I will love you no matter if you wish to be called Slipstream or another name. But there are things that become simpler with a more conventional name. Bank accounts. Documents...marriage certificates.”

Slipstream felt like the world had suddenly stopped, but couldn’t help the urge to be a smartass. “Make an honest woman of me, eh?”

Odile just snorted, amusement dancing in her eyes. “As if you could _ever_ lie to me.”

“Heh. True.” Slipstream looked at her, and knew part of the answer to her question had already been answered. “Suppose that ‘Slipstream Guillard’ is a bit flash. Even a Bond girl would have a _bit_ more plausible name.”

“Perhaps…”

They shared a laugh and lapsed back into silence as they ate, their conversation moving to one of subtle touches and silent little glances while their mouths were occupied. The lakeside café had quickly become one of their favorites after they’d made a home here, and the food was just as excellent as it had been on their first visit.

Unbidden, a fragment of memory came to Slipstream as she ate. Widowmaker - not Odette yet, and still blue - holding a book in her hands with amusement in her eyes. _'30,000 Beautiful Baby Names’? Are you trying to tell me something, Chérie?_

For once, Slipstream didn’t feel like it was an unwanted intrusion. Instead, it was almost reassuring, in a way. Lena had been nervous, in that moment, but it wasn’t the fear that Slipstream associated with most of her memories. More a sense of anticipation. Excitement. Hope.

_Maybe there’s something to this after all._

After their lunches and a shared cheese course were cleared away, Slipstream left enough Euros on the table to cover their bill, then offered Odile her hand as her Swan stood.

“Ziegler said no strenuous exercise, huh?”

“Mm. Though I think I have some discretion as to what I find ‘strenuous’.’’

‘Well,” Slipstream tilted her head towards the street. “Care for a little walk before we go back? Maybe we can find a bookshop somewhere in there.”

Odile nodded, taking her hand as they stepped out onto the avenue. “I can think of nothing I’d like more.” She paused for just a moment, her lips turning up in that little smile that never failed to promise excitement later. “Well. Perhaps I can think of one or two things...but there will be time enough for that when we return.”

They shared another kiss before Slipstream led them into the city, keeping her pace down to something close to a reasonable walking speed.

They still had a lot of work to do. Plans to make. People to kill.

But this was a nice afternoon, and they could have it for themselves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You are probably reading this now and thinking "But, what next? What about Akande? What about Hana?"
> 
> This was originally intended to be a larger story, but the characters kinda told me "Wait, this is the stopping point." 
> 
> So the rest will be told...just not quite yet.
> 
> Thanks again for reading!


End file.
